Little Wonders
by Bastetian
Summary: After the events of Scarecrow, Shane Schofield is trying to pick up the pieces of his life when an unforseen event has unexpected consequences, thrusting him into unfamiliar territory and causing him to reconsider everything he thought he knew about himself. And where the bloody hell has Aloysius Knight disapeared to? Slash, Mpreg
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello! Well, I'm going out a bit on a limb here with this story so I thought I'd explain a little where it's coming from.

Firstly, I took advanced chemistry and biology at school. I'm no dumbass and I know this is totally and completely impossible so you don't need to tell me that. Also, I work in a hospital so all the miscellaneous details are correct, although obviously there is one large and (funnily enough) intentional mistake.

Secondly, this story was actually (partially) inspired by Midnight in Paris, which is an incredible movie and just reinforced my firm belief that the world is nothing without a healthy dose of imagination.

Thirdly, dammit babies are cute!

So, if you are the person responsible for putting this idea in my head – and you know who you are my lovely – this is for you, hope you like it and don't you dare let a cage full of ravenous plot bunnies loose in my head again!

I said I'd post this if at least three people asked for it. Well, five did. That's good enough for me! As long as I know I'm not the only one that'll read this sort of stuff. If it's not your cup of tea, I understand entirely but please, don't spoil it for someone else! Flames are a totally inappropriate response. Feel free to check out my livejournal and I will happily debate with you there.

The title is from the Rob Thomas song, which I will freely admit I think is beautiful.

At points, this chapter jumps timeframe wise. Please let me know if it's unclear when and I'll work out some way of making it clearer.

I will confess I am not particularly familiar with the x-men comic canon but did very much love the movies and given the ridiculous denial of gravity/laws of physics/general reality in Mr Reilly's works, this seemed the perfect combination to somehow explain that.

Also, can I just say, (this is the last thing, I promise) I've never before written a first chapter that I'm entirely happy with. I think the first chapters of my other stories are undoubtedly the weakest but this one I'm really quite pleasantly surprised as to how this one has turned out. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

Shane Schofield awoke. Slowly drifting back into consciousness, he tried to crack open one heavy eyelid to assess the situation and reassure himself that it could not possibly be real.  
Just a shocking, unnerving nightmare, he thought to himself.  
Eyes still shut – trying to block out the possibility of that sight – he could still tell himself the familiar smell of antiseptic was just in his mind. He tried to force himself off the bed but pain tore through his body, every muscle screaming in protest. Abandoning the effort, he sunk back against the starched pillows. Another means of testing his environment occurred to him and so cautiously, he tried to move a foot but found it tightly contained by a well-made hospital corner. The movement didn't bring the sharp pain back. Instead, it felt more like the dull tugging ache of a healing wound in the vicinity of his abdomen.

By the smell and the sheets, he was almost certain he had ascertained that he was in a hospital, so he decided to chance opening his eyes. The harsh fluorescent light on the gleaming while walls assaulted his senses. Definitely a hospital then, like any of the countless others he had wound up in courtesy of the usual bumps and bruises associated with being a marine.

Perhaps that was really all it was.

He was here, and Bosnia, or Wilkes, or that god-awful fiasco with the president had only just happened. But not the whole bounty hunt episode, that could all be a part of the dream.  
Everything else, he reasoned, was just some grand and terrifying hallucination. He would recover, take Libby out to dinner and they would laugh about it.  
If he focussed on that hard enough, he could even tune out the grating sound of a newborn crying down the other end of the ward.

He almost reached for the nurse call bell but quickly decided against it. If he was hurt or crazy enough to be hallucinating, he would rather keep that little fact to himself. If on the other hand, he wasn't hallucinating and it was reality that had turned crazy then he didn't really want to know.

He thought about turning his head and trying to look around the room but a weariness beyond anything he had every felt before seemed to have settled in his very bones and even that simple movement seemed far beyond him Besides, looking brought the greatest danger in that he might see _her_ and then it would be beyond deniability. He was just too damn tired for the cold hard slap of reality yet, so he closed his eyes and let the blissful oblivion of darkness retake him for at least a few hours more.

Scarecrow had been missing now for three days. Now Mother wasn't a woman easily worried but when it came to the Scarecrow, she would make an exception. In fact, in the months following Elizabeth Gant's gruesome death, she had spent rather a lot of time being worried about the Scarecrow. So much so that she almost felt she was getting used to the feeling. But three days with no note, no call, no nothing, had stepped it up a whole new level. If they didn't find him soon then she was becoming quite concerned that the word fear might acquire a place in her vocabulary.

The first day, they had thought nothing on it. Even a year on and a seemingly complete return to health and active service, it wasn't unusual for Schofield to simply disappear for a day. Nobody quite knew where he went.  
Maybe he was seeing a shrink.  
Maybe he was getting thoroughly drunk.  
Maybe he just hadn't felt like getting out of bed.  
They didn't demand an explanation and he never provided one, but he always came back the next day.

Only this time, he didn't and Mother had felt the first vague prickling's of fear. She started by calling his mobile, moved on to his home telephone before escalating to previously unheard of levels and just turned up at his apartment in the hopes that he was simply sick and unable to answer the phone, or sleeping of the world's worst hangover and unconscious to the world, or just stubbornly ignoring it. Whatever it was, she was sure her physical presence could help resolve the situation.

At the very least, he couldn't ignore her if she broke down his door.

Only, he wasn't at home. That much was clear by the pile of mail shoved crudely under the door.

By the third day, she was worried enough to confide in Book II. He had sensibly suggested they contact his family and check he wasn't with them. It had taken a fair bit of wrangling with the bored receptionist on the personnel desk – which involved an elaborate yet imaginary surprise birthday party plan – but finally, she had reluctantly handed over Schofield's Next of Kin details. When it turned out to be only another place he wasn't, did Book II voiced the suggestion Mother had been studiously avoiding.

"Given Scarecrow's proclivity for danger and destruction," he had said, "is it not unreasonably to call around a couple of nearby police stations and hospitals?"

"Just to be sure," he had added hastily upon seeing the look on Mother's face. Normally she would have teased him about big words and dumb grunts but this time, she only nodded in reply and offered to do the hospitals if he would do the police stations. They both agreed to post bail no matter what the cost, but it wasn't necessary.  
Mother found him in the fourth hospital she tried.

Schofield dreamed he was in a world of pain but the residual still throbbing through his limbs felt most certainly the product of reality – though the lines between reality and dreams felt blurred and he couldn't, or didn't want, to distinguish between them.

It had begun as a dull, niggling ache in the small of his back. It felt like nothing more than a cramped muscle, so he had simply stretched it out and pushed it from his mind. Certain it was nothing to worry about. He had worked through the strain all day and so was unsurprised when it was not only still present but worsened by the end of the day. Letting himself into his apartment and carelessly tossing his jacket and glasses onto the nearest chair, he was too sore and strangely tired to give a damn tonight. He had thought briefly about trying to cook but quickly gave that thought up, reaching instead for the frozen remains of some soup his grandmother had left from her last visit.

As all grandmothers' are prone to doing, she always protested he was far too skinny but right now, he was very grateful for her ever so slightly overbearing but well-meant care. It was times like this that loved ones are always most appreciated. With a pang, he realised that a year ago he would have just called Libby. Her warm body against his was more than enough to sooth any discomfort.  
As it was, Libby was dead and his family was far away.  
He was alone.  
Alone and in pain.  
The thought crossed his mind that he might call _him,_ but he rapidly dismissed it as absurd. Instead, he headed for the shower.

A long, hot soak and the comfort food went a long way to temporarily ease the ache, which by then had settled into an uncomfortable rhythm of flaring up through his lower abdomen before easing off, lulling him into a false sense of security that each one might be the last before returning viciously. He knew he should have gone to bed and tried to sleep it off but having settled himself fairly comfortably on the couch –legs curled up practically in the foetal position and with one hand clenched over his stomach, the epicentre of the pain – he felt too wretched to move.

He was starting to feel nauseous and the first signs of a fever were breaking on his forehead. His last comforting though as he had fallen into an uneasy sleep was that this was just some fairly rotten twenty-four hour bug and that he had probably endured the worst of it.

Probably there being the key word as he was jolted awake by a bolt of pain ripping through his abdomen like lightning. In the few short hours he had slept, the strange pain had managed to intensify beyond explanation. It felt like a knife plunged into his gut and slowly, torturously, being twisted, tearing him from the inside out. The bitter copper taste of blood was on his lips from where he had evidently bitten down to stop from crying out; and his knuckles, clenched against the arm of the sofa, were white like bone.

As the pain peaked and finally ebbed away, in a moment of lucidity he thought about calling Mother for help but a remnant of (foolhardy) determination and a deep-seated weariness that he couldn't shake, despite the few hours of sleep he'd managed, forced that idea from him.  
Instead, he curled in on himself, bracing against the couch and tried to ride out wave after crashing wave of pain.  
It was then he saw the blood.

How it was he had managed to get – safely – to the hospital, he didn't know. He recalled holding on til he particular wave of pain had begun to pass before unsteadily forcing himself upright and stumbling out the door. He had hit the call button for the elevator but realised he probably didn't have enough time to wait for it before the next one hit. Unfortunately, he was only half way down the fire stairs when it arrived with spectacular force, bringing him almost to his knees against the bare concrete floor. This time, he couldn't supress a cry and it reverberated harshly back at him. Caught now between the safe zones of the couch and the hospital, he knew he couldn't stay in this dank and dirty stairwell. It took all his strength to force himself up again and make it to his car in the basement. It was a haze of traffic lights and pain and near misses and pain before his next sharp memory.

He had just made it to the hospital – a small catholic one around the corner from his favourite Chinese takeout, if he'd driven past it once, he'd driven past it a thousand times but never imagined he might need it – and practically fallen through the doors of the emergency department.  
Strangely enough, he remembered exactly the welcoming cool of the tiles as he hit them against the warmth of the blood which stained his jeans a horrid crimson.

Mother stood in the cool tiled front reception of St Agnes of Mercy hospital in downtown D.C. Beside her, also wearing civilian dress and trying to appear inconspicuous with a small silver Remington shotgun concealed under his jacket – spend enough time with the Scarecrow and you learnt to be prepared for anything – stood Book II.

"Schofield, S-C-H-O-F-I-E-L-D," she repeated, her voice carrying over the tranquil music playing in the background, clearly not having the desired effect. Mother stood looming over the front desk while a slight young woman tapped the name into her computer.

"I have two patients currently admitted under that name," the hapless receptionist said, "Can you confirm the first name for me?"

"Shane," Mother replied sharply, bringing her large hand down hard upon the counter.

"Sure, level two," she replied chirpily, "he's under infection precautions so visiting may be restricted. You'll have to check in with the nurses desk up there as well. Have a nice day."

Mother stalked off without another word, so Book II shot the girl a quick 'thank you' before dashing off to follow her. Not two seconds later though, he was back at the desk and determined to do the talking himself.  
"Excuse me," he said and the girl looked up from her paperwork, "I think you might have made a mistake, the sign by the lifts says level two is maternity."

"Oh no," she smiled as he she stood up, "it happens."

Her professional manner dropped for a moment as she giggled at his confused look.  
"We're only a small hospital," she explained, "and sometimes we run out of beds. I wasn't here last night when your friend was admitted but I'd say it was a choice between maternity or the floor."

With a relieved smile, Book II went back to Mother beside the lifts and hit the call button.  
The elevators were old but less than a minute later they were standing in front of another desk where a couple of tired-looking nurses wearing blue scrub gear were sitting drinking a cup of tea. One of them looked up as they approached and said with a friendly, lilting Irish accent, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Book II said quickly whilst Mother ground her teeth, "we're looking for Shane Schofield."

"Room twenty-eight," the nurse replied, tipping back in her chair to look at a busy whiteboard, "right down the end of the corridor."

As she spoke however, another head appeared from within a nearby office.  
"Did I hear Shane Schofield?" A tall red-headed woman said as she appeared fully from the office. Unlike the others, she was dressed in a well-cut and form-fitting suit, with her striking dark red hair pulled off her face in a sharp bun. She held out a slender hand as she spoke, saying, "Sergeants' New and Riley, my name is Doctor Jean Grey and I think you'd best come with me."

They followed her wordlessly down the hall, wondering how on earth she had known their names. It was perfectly conceivable, they both knew, that Schofield himself had given her their names and told her they would probably be coming.  
But it was equally conceivable that he had not and so they both tensed in preparation to reach for their guns if necessary.

She walked them all the way down the end of the corridor and right past a door with the number twenty eight stuck on the outside in brass figures.  
It was firmly shut.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mother protested loudly, stopping outside the door, "I want to see him now." Her tone was deadly and anybody who knew her knew better than to argue with that tone.

The woman doctor stopped, entirely nonplussed by Mother's death stare and looked at her appraisingly before nodding curtly. "Alright," she said, "He's sleeping right now and I really do think it would be better if I explained the circumstances properly but you may see him briefly."

She pushed open the door cautiously. They went to step inside but she held them back.  
"Just look," she said in barely more than a whisper, "reassure yourselves he's okay."

They peered around the doorframe and sure enough, even in the low light of the drawn curtains, he was unmistakable. Schofield was lying on his side, facing them. His scars met and his breathing was deep and steady, fast asleep. Mother could see a tube full of a dark liquid that looked awfully like blood disappear into the crook of his elbow.  
Dr Grey shut the door and turned to them. "I really don't want him disturbed," she said seriously. "He's lost a lot of blood and the potential for shock is still quite large but as long as he'd sleeping peacefully, I'm not too worried. Why don't you come with me and I can answer all your questions."

She led them to an airy, light filled longue room complete with flowers and floral patterned sofas. Book and Mother sat side by side and feeling rather out of place amongst the encroaching cut hydrangeas. The doctor perched herself in an armchair opposite them.

"I imagine you have lots of questions," she said at exactly the same time as Mother, pulling out her small handgun, said, "What sort of set up is this? How did you know our names?"

The doctor didn't flinch. In fact, she betrayed no emotion nor hint of surprise at the appearance of the gun. Instead, she simply lifted her right hand and with a casual flick of the wrist, the gun was tugged out of Mother's hands, soaring between them before coming to rest on a small glass coffee table.  
Book and Mother watched it with their mouths agape. Their eyes flicked up immediately to Dr. Grey's and she was laughing pleasantly at their stunned expressions.  
"Yes, they're rather impressive little tricks aren't they," she said amiably, with the air of one discussing the weather "Sergeant Newman, Gena if I may. I am no danger to you or Captain Schofield. The names and the gun were simply little demonstrations, if you like. Proof of what I am about to tell you."

"Genetic Mutation," she said suddenly serious. "It's the key to our very existence. Mutation took us from single-celled organisms to the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet. Currently, the human race is undergoing the next step in the evolutionary cycle. We are already seeing an increasing amount of individuals with extreme physical or mental mutations. Mutations, which are resulting in individuals with extraordinary capabilities."

"Mutants?" Mother cut across her bluntly.

"Homo Superior, actually," Dr Grey said, leaning forward in her chair and with her eyes lit up with excitement. She was clearly in her element, "but essentially yes, Mutants will do. You've heard of them?"

"We're soldiers, so yes, we were briefed on them," Book II said as Mother nodded.  
"And the threat they might pose," he added somewhat ominously.

Jean laughed, a friendly sound. "Some mutants will almost certainly pose a threat to humanity," she said wisely, "But I think you'll find that most of them are simply normal people who happen to be able to do extraordinary things, but who also want to live ordinary lives.  
I think we have more to fear from you, than you do from us."

Book II and Mother just stared at her, trying to take it in.

"What does all this have to do with Scarecrow?" Mother asked suddenly.

"Your captain," Dr Grey said, pausing for emphasis, "is one such individual."

Whilst Book II simply sunk back into the chair and exhaled his surprise with a low whistle, Mother exclaimed loudly, "Well knock me down with a feather and call me short arse, I always said he was special." She turned to Book, as if expecting that he would confirm that she indeed, had often said Schofield was special, could do things that others couldn't, but Book was internally processing his own surprise and didn't reply. It was Dr Grey who did.

"He is indeed very special," she said gently.

"What can he do then?" Book II asked, recovering his voice.

"Ah, well," the doctor said, straightening in her chair and crossing her legs, "That is a very good question but one to which we have yet to ascertain an answer."

"You don't know." Mother said bluntly.

"No."

"How can you know he's a mutant if you don't know what he can do?"  
Book II prided himself on being a solid and sensible bloke. This whole shenanigans was a little beyond him.  
He had no idea it was only going to get worse.

At the question, Dr Grey sat bolt upright, her obvious excitement was practically contagious. They had reached the crux.  
"That's the extraordinary part," she said, "Captain Schofield was admitted here the day before yesterday with a condition never yet observed in a Homo Sapien male. He was pregnant."

A look of absolute shock passed over Mother and Book II's faces, before Mother managed to stutter out;

"Pregnant?"

"Yes," the doctor replied undisturbed, "We estimate between thirty-three and thirty-six weeks."

It was Mother's turn to be struck dumb but Book II managed to voice a slightly strangled, "Was?"

Dr Grey immediately turned to him. "You're sharp sergeant," she said, "the operative word there was 'was.' His daughter was born shortly after 3am this morning."

"Wait – No, Really?" Mother interrupted. "Pregnant? Like, a baby?"

"A baby girl," Jean said gently, reaching out and putting one hand on Mother's knee. "A rather beautiful little girl I must say. She looks exactly like him. Would you like to see her?"

"I'd like to see him." Mother retorted sharply, standing up. The other two followed suit, slightly alarmed. Book II placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, whilst Dr Grey spoke calmly.  
"Gena, I understand that, I really do but let me assure you, the shock you are experiencing is nothing compared to his. Add that to the physical and psychological toll of what he's been through and Captain Schofield has had a very difficult couple of days. What he really needs is to rest right now but as soon as he wakes up of his own accord, I will let you in to see him."

Mother grunted unhappily but she recognised the wisdom in the doctor's words so she nodded curtly and resumed her seat. An uneasy truce was brokered.

"Sorry," Book II said conciliatorily, "it's just that we're fairly confused. How can this happen?"

"Did nobody ever teach you the birds and the bee's Sergeant Riley," Jean replied with a laugh. "It's actually all remarkably normal. The ability to conceive is a secondary mutation which we suspect is quite common amongst male mutants."

"You only suspect?" Book II asked.

"Yes," the doctor explained. "It's difficult to confirm the existence of this particular ability in any mutant until they actually conceive and even then, there are multiple other variables that must be met. Did you know that the amount of mutants in the general population is approximately the same as the amount of homosexual people, around one in ten; so the chances of then finding a homosexual mutant is only one out of one hundred. Of these, only half will be male meaning only one person out of every two hundred might find themselves in a situation possible for them to conceive and the chances of conception with any sexual encounter are only a quarter. So in total, the chances of a male mutant actually falling pregnant are around one in a thousand. Although this particular mutation could actually be very common, in the rest of the mutant population it is simply latent."

"Wait," Book II interrupted, holding out a hand, "I can see a snag in your formula. Scarecrow's not gay."

"Far be it from me to label anyone," she replied, "but gay, straight, blue with red spots, it's irrelevant. I can say with absolute certainty that eight months ago, your captain was having homosexual intercourse because the proof is lying in the NICU."

"The mutation doesn't work in reverse," she explained gently, "there's no woman alive that could get him pregnant."

"But who?" Mother asked with evident shock, finding her voice.

"I'm afraid that's a question you'll have to ask him," Jean replied firmly, "I'm really only placed to answer questions of a medical nature."

"They said something about infection precautions downstairs?" Book immediately seized upon the opportunity for a question with a perfectly rational answer that couldn't possibly shock him. Infections in hospitals were perfectly common and absolutely normal.

Dr Grey almost laughed. "No, I'm sorry," she said, "he's not infectious. In fact, there's really nothing medically wrong with him at all. We just imposed precautions on his room so we could control visitation and anybody else who might wander in. Other than myself, the nurses on this floor and a select amount of my colleagues who are all very familiar with mutation issues, nobody else is aware of his situation."

Mother wanted to understand everything, as if it might help her process this information. But most of all, she wanted to see him.  
"You said before this is common," she asked, steeling her voice to stop it from shaking, "but then you rattled off a whole list of numbers making it sound very uncommon. One or the other and how many, exactly, have you seen?"

The doctor paused to consider her answer.  
"It could be very common," she said slowly and cautiously, "but in practice, it is still quite rare. I've personally delivered nine infants – including captain Schofield's – to male mutants but I've heard of several others also."

"And the birth itself," Book asked the question but almost looked like he didn't want to know, "how?"

Jean smiled warmly at him. "That's one of the most interesting and complicated elements of these pregnancies. Every mutant I have seen carried their pregnancy differently. Captain Schofield's presentation however, was unusual even amongst them. He has a single functioning ovary like organ and, as far as we can see, no uterus. Now, this is pure speculation," she paused, "but based on his blood results which showed a slight decrease in his kidney function, I suspect that the placenta attached itself to the kidney and was leeching blood supply from there. It supplied the infant with the rich blood needed for its development but it was still a highly delicate pregnancy. One of the reasons I was reluctant to cut him open and perform a caesarean section."

"Sometimes, you just have to trust that Mother Nature knows best," she added with a smile. "As it was, the birth was remarkably easy."

"Or, at least, no more difficult than any other birth," she hastily revised. "The muscles of his abdomen tore themselves apart to form the canal in almost exactly the same way that we force them to for a section anyway and from there, he dilated and delivered exactly as we anticipated. The only complication was blood loss from the wound but a couple of well-placed stitches and a transfusion, and it's all under control."

She was cut off by the buzz of her pager, which she pulled from her belt and looked at quickly, before turning her gaze back to Book II and Mother, who still looked remarkably like deer caught in headlights.  
"He's awake," she said.


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

**A/N: **So I will freely admit to being a review whore but I promise I am not and never will be one of those people that will hold a story to ransom unless it gets reviews. I despise people like that! When I finish a chapter, I'm usually so excited that it goes up five minutes later and I hope that makes you excited to! But the thing about reviews is, they really do give me the kick up the ass I sometimes need to actually work my way through a difficult scene or finish a chapter. Having sort of gone out on a limb with this story, I was pretty nervous about how it would be received. Thank you once again to my wonderfully loyal reviewers, DarkHunter643, Prototypicality and Black666Hunter, you guys are inexpressibly wonderful. This chapter is for you.

Anyway, apologies all the same for the delay between chapters. I've just finished uni for the semester – woo! – and have much more time to devote to writing however, on my first day of holidays, I very sillily went to see the avengers. I will also freely admit to being an absolute sucker for superhero movies… and this one was pretty damn good! So my head's been rather caught up with avengers stuff and I'd say really, it's all Loki's fault.

Also, I'm sort of going by my own headcanon a bit in this story. If you're read complications then you'd be familiar with the idea of Book II and Juliet Janson being together. In that story, they were engaged with a baby on the way. Here, they're married and said baby is born.

Chapter 2

Mother approached the bed with caution. After the shock of the last couple of days, they weren't quite sure how Schofield was going to take waking up and finding them there and so Book II had elected to wait outside the door with Dr. Grey, giving Shane and Mother a few moments alone.

"Doesn't look very bloody awake," Mother grumbled to herself as she approached the bed. At some point since they had last seen him, Schofield had managed to roll over so he was now lying on his other shoulder with his back to the door and the sheets tangled around his legs. If he was awake then he either didn't see the chink of light cut into the otherwise darkened room when she had opened the door or heard her carpet muffled steps – not particularly likely when he was the damn most observant person she could think of.  
Which only left that he was deliberately ignoring her approach.

There was a chair in her half of the room so she grabbed it and dragged it noisily over, sitting herself right beside the bed and facing his back. Carefully, gently, she reached out with one large hand and grasped his shoulder. Running her broad thumb across the blade, she said gently, "Hey."

He didn't reply.

She tried again.  
"You not talking to me, or just still asleep?"

Still no answer.  
So she took the direct approach and got up, walked to the other side and dropping to her knees with her chin resting on her arms, resting on the bed, she looked into his bright blue – open - eyes and said with a small smile, "Well hey there sleepyhead."

Schofield just quirked a single eyebrow at her and rolled onto his back.  
That he winced as he did so however, didn't escape her.

Mother was at a complete loss for what to do next. She didn't think joking about would quite help the situation given Schofield's current resemblance to a bear with a sore head, but reassurances had never been her strong point. After all, what can you say to a guy that's just had a baby without knowing he was, or even could be, pregnant?

She was saved from her dilemma however, by the sudden entrance of Dr. Grey and Book II.

Whilst Book II hung awkwardly around the door, the doctor took control of the situation with the practised ease of someone who has seen it all and is henceforth very difficult to shock. She crossed the room purposefully and lifted his wrist without saying a word. That is, until he started to struggle to sit himself up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said calmly as they all heard him gasp involuntarily, evidently in pain.

He continued to try anyway.

"Captain," She said as she turned her piercing grey eyes upon him. Although her eyes said it was a command, her voice was kindly, "Stop squirming and let me take your pulse."

When she was satisfied, she sat down and crossed her legs elegantly in the chair Mother had vacated. Defiantly, Schofield managed to force himself into a mostly upright position.  
She just shrugged her shoulders.  
"You are allowed to go a little easy on yourself for a couple of days, you know," she said. "You must still be in pain."

"Where is it?" He shot back as his only reply, determinedly avoiding Mother and Book's glances.

The doctor began to reply but Mother cut across her, loudly exclaiming, "Hallelujah, he speaks!"

Both Schofield and the doctor ignored her but Book II laughed a little.  
"It is a she," Jean began, "and she is in the NICU."  
"Neonatal Intensive Care Unit," she explained at their questioning looks. "But you've got no reason to be concerned. We took her to assess her prematurity but we only kept her there because you hadn't woken up yet. As it is, she's a little on the small side but she's breathing on her own and her suck swallow reflex is down-pat. She's a real little fighter and doing far better than we expected. You can see her now if you'd like."

Schofield dropped his gaze to his own lap and the answer when it came was barely perceptible.  
"No."

"Are you sure?" Jean prodded gently.

"I said no."  
Sharper this time.

"Okay," Dr. Grey said as she stood up to leave but as she was about to cross the threshold of the door, she heard it.

"Wait," his voice said, catching a little in his throat. It sounded very different to how it had before. Now, he sounded worried – almost desperate. When she turned around to face him, she found he was looking up again, and his gaze was clear, burning. "Are her eyes okay?"

That stopped her.  
"We haven't had any reason to think otherwise," she said slowly, "but I could organise some tests if you'd like."

He nodded curtly and with that, she knew she was dismissed.

As the doctor left, a slightly tense silence resumed between the three friends. Book II hovered near the door. Schofield, sitting on the bed, stared at his lap and Mother was wringing her hands for something to do. Curiosity was getting the better of her.

"Scarecrow," she began tentatively. She knew he wasn't going to appreciate the question but dammit if she wasn't going to ask anyway. "Who's her daddy?"

Without moving his head an inch, Shane flicked his gaze up to look straight into hers. From under dark eyelashes and those scars – his sunglasses had disappeared in the chaos that was the emergency room, he was still hopeful of seeing them again though – his dark blue eyes were shocking. The effect was startling and he knew it.

"Me," he replied shortly, deliberately annoying her.

"The doctor did try and explain that bit," Book II interjected with a half-smile.

"And most of it went over my head," Mother cut across, "but she was pretty damn clear on the part about you sleeping with a bloke."

If Schofield blushed, they couldn't tell in the low light but they did hear him sign a little.  
"I was drunk," he said by way of explanation, "didn't realise there would be consequences."

Mother snuffed a laugh.  
"Honey," she said, "Even I ain't never been that drunk."

Schofield made no reply. He just brought his hands up and buried his head in them.  
"Mother," he said after a moment, looking up. They were relieved to see he was smiling – maybe even laughing a little, "you're about as subtle as a blunt knife and after the craziness of the last couple of days, I needed that."

"So shall I call him then?" She replied quickly.

"Who?"

"Knight, of course."

"What?"  
Both Schofield and Book II responded together with identical looks of shock.

"How the blazes did you - " Schofield began but Mother cut him off, raising a single broad hand.

"Now, now Scarecrow," she said with the air of one explaining something extremely obvious to a small child, "In the many years I've worked with you, I do sometimes pay attention and on occasions, have even learnt some things. Pick your jaw up off the flaw, Riley - "

Book II had remained standing in stunned silence in his corner, looking back and forth between them with his mouth wide open. After all the shocks of today, it was this one that proved to be the limit.

" – You asked about her eyes, but you were a pilot so there can't be anything wrong – genetically at least – with your eyes which means the problem must come from the other side. Whoever he was then, he weren't no random, drunken hook-up because for one, you don't do that sorta shit, and two, you knew him well enough to know about his eye problems," Mother explained with a smug look, counting off the reasons on her fingers as she went. "Now there ain't a lot of guys you know that would fit that bill, so I took an educated guess. I didn't know for sure until your reaction proved me right."

"Of everything you could have asked, this is the conversation you want to have?" Schofield replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Nope," Book II shot back, shaking his head firmly and attempting to subtly cover his ears.

"You stop being such a baby and _you_ stop deflecting," Mother said loudly, shooting looks like daggers at both Book II and Scarecrow in their turn. "More to the point, how the hell did you end up sleeping with Knight in the first place?"

This time, he didn't just bury his face in his hands. No, instead he brought both his arms up to cover his face and the blush that was rapidly spreading across it, as though they might shield him.  
"I don't know," he moaned from behind them.

"Thought you said you were drunk," Book II supplied, not looking entirely like he wanted to contribute to or hear the rest of this conversation.

"I was," Shane replied, blue eyes peeping out from behind elbows, "the first time."

And with that, all hell broke loose.

Book II's eyes flew up to the ceiling and his hand worried at the back of his neck.  
"Holy shit," he exhaled.

Mother was far less subtle.  
"Oh right," she said loudly at the same time, "so that's how it is, eh. Well, you'd best be out with the whole fucking story now."

Shane just dropped his arms and stared resolutely at his lap, pink still colouring his cheeks.  
"I didn't mean for it to go this far," he said quietly.

Both Book II and Mother turned to look at his at the almost whispered confession. Without his glasses, Schofield wasn't particularly adept at hiding his emotions and it was plain to both of them – regret and longing and a healthy dose of confusion was written across his face. When he did finally meet their eyes, he was biting down on the corner of his lower lip – seeking, needing their approval – and Mother was stunned by how much more vulnerable the gesture made him look. How incredibly unprepared he had been for this situation. How vulnerable he must feel indeed and how utterly powerless to control this.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She prompted gently.

He shook his head but she had known he would, even though she could see in his eyes how badly he did need to talk about it. Only then, could he begin to understand it himself.  
So she replied, "Oh yes you do. Ain't nobody going to judge you in here."

With it, she shot Book II a withering glare that said clear as day, 'And that means you.'

Book II nodded discretely at her. Far from being afraid of Mother (although that did have something to do with it) or even feeling awkward about the idea of his boss sleeping with another bloke (although there was probably something in that as well) he just didn't handle these sorts of conversations well. Hell, Schofield could've been sleeping with Marilyn freaking Monroe and Book II still wouldn't have wanted to hear the grisly details, no thank you.

But all the same, when it came down to it, he still shot Shane a weak but hopefully supportive smile.

Schofield's eyes flickered quickly across every corner of the room, anywhere other than Mother and Book but with a brief sigh, he began to talk, hesitantly.

"It wasn't just about the sex," he said, "at least not at first. The U.S. government might've taken the bounty of Knight's head but he's still wanted in about twenty-six other countries so every now and then when he ran afoul of one of those countries, he'd turn up at my place and hide out there for a couple of days until things blew over."

Then that night had come. It was three months to the day after Libby Gant had met her gruesome end in the shark pit and Schofield had spent the better part of the night getting wasted enough to forget. Having stumbled back to his empty apartment and fallen into bed, he'd thought the shadow that appeared at the foot of it, somewhere in the blurry hours between midnight and dawn, was probably a figment of his imagination.

Until said figment of his imagination had crawled into bed with him, shaking, and not from the cold, although his bare skin against Schofield's had felt like ice.

In all honesty, Shane didn't remember much of that night. Although Knight usually slept on the couch when he showed up, he had crawled into Schofield's bed a few times before after particularly bad nights when he was covered in blood – more often than not, not his own. It was platonic. Nothing more than the comfort of a warm, alive, body beside him and Shane didn't mind that.

Only, when Knight kissed him, he hadn't minded that either.  
Perhaps it was the alcohol on his own lips but he could've sworn Knight tasted like bourbon.

They weren't gentle with each other and in the morning, both woke up covered in scratches and bites and bruises but neither said a word over breakfast and coffee the next morning. In silence, an agreement was broached that as long as neither of them mentioned it, then they could continue like it hadn't happened, like it didn't make a difference.

"He understood," Shane continued, coming back to the present, "because he was lonely too, because he'd lost someone as well. With anyone else, it would've felt like betraying her. With him it was just sex. Any guy would take that, uncomplicated, no strings attached sex."

Book II, happily married, didn't particularly agree with that statement but then again, he supposed, he'd never been that desperate.

The problem was, after the first time, they couldn't just ignore it or pretend it hadn't happened. Nor the time after that, or however many bloody times it was that Knight just showed up out of nowhere and for whatever reasons, Shane let him in. After that, the agreement had to shift. As long as they didn't talk about it, as long as it was only sex, then it was just something that happened - because they were lonely, because they needed this – just one of those things, whatever the reason.  
As long as it wasn't mentioned aloud, then it was fine.

Only, Shane broke the rules first.

In the beginning, he told himself he was thinking about Libby but there came a point where he could no longer deny that the flat planes of skin and taut muscles that made up Knight were absolutely nothing like Libby. So then he told himself that was the only reason he could handle this was because Knight was so different from her.  
Eventually, he would have to admit to himself that he might have wanted Knight for him.

"It took a while," he said aloud, "but eventually I realised that it wasn't that it just didn't bother me that Knight was a man. I kinda liked him because of it."

"And I missed him when he wasn't around," he added almost bitterly.

"So why isn't he here now?" Mother asked.

Schofield just sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. He still looked so tired.

"Well for starters," he replied, "I've got no idea where he is now or how to contact him and I don't want him here anyway."

"Wait, wait, wait," Book II interrupted incredulously, "You mean, Knight would just randomly turn up on your doorstep without any notice or any other contact at all, expecting to fuck you and you just let him in?"

Schofield was momentarily silenced. In all honesty, the situation was rather ludicrous and he knew it.  
And the presence of the baby somewhere in this hospital certainly wasn't helping it make any more sense.

He sighed again and was visited by the strange feeling he was going to be doing an awful lot of that, as well as an awful lot of explaining in the following days.

"Well when you put it like that," he began but Mother cut him off with one large hand.

"What do you mean, you don't want him here?"

Proven right, Schofield sighed again.

"We had a fight," Shane explained. "I was pretty slow on the uptake but Knight, he just didn't want to hear it at all."

"Hear what?" Book II asked, confused.

"The implications of what we were doing."

"What implications, Scarecrow?" Mother asked seriously.

Schofield bowed his head but only momentarily. When he looked up again and caught her eye, his own gaze was sharp but his voice was nonchalant.  
"I think I'm gay."

Perhaps Shane had thought that saying that aloud would be earthshattering. That he would feel relief or a sudden rush of conviction or at the very least bone-shaking fear but instead he felt exactly the same as he had two minutes ago: mostly just confused and still a little sleepy.

That wasn't right, was it?  
Surely the earth was supposed to stop turning and his friends were supposed to either vomit love and support or never speak to him again. Instead, they just sat in awkward silence for a minute or two.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mother said, holding up a hand again. "Hold on a minute, let's not go jumping to conclusions here. Don't you think you're being a little hasty?"

Schofield laughed.  
Actually laughed and the spell was broken.

"Funny," he said, "That's exactly what Knight said. You tell me, which part of two guys sleeping together doesn't sound gay to you?"

"Well, yeah, but," Mother stuttered.

"But what?" Shane bit back.

"I mean, have you ever felt like this before?"

"Yes," Schofield admitted. "When I was growing up, there was this boy who lived on my street. Him and his friends were the height of cool but I looked up to him even more than that. I was just a kid, like ten or something, too young to understand it really but I knew even then that I had to keep it quiet and then I grew up and joined the marines and I still had to keep it quiet. So I just pushed it to the side and told myself not to think about it, that it would go away eventually. Only, it never did and I never really had the chance to work it out because I was too busy ignoring it."

There was silence in the room until Book II finally found his voice and asked the hard question.  
"But what about Libby?"

"I don't know," Shane replied after a moment, "I loved her or at least I thought I did but now some part of me wonders if I only wanted her because I thought I should have."

"Don't," Mother interrupted, "Don't diminish what you had with her. Maybe you're right and it didn't mean anything but maybe you're wrong. Now I'm not saying that if Aloysius Knight makes you happy again, don't go for it with everything you got but don't try and squeeze yourself into some arbitrary fucking label. Who says it has to be one or the other? Just be you."

Momentarily taken aback, Schofield nodded his head dumbly.

"When did you get so smart, Mother?" He said eventually, with a smile. "So what happens now?"

"Well there's still that small matter of a baby to deal with," Book II said, shrugging his shoulders casually but Mother just waved one large hand in his direction in dismissal.

"We're getting to that," she said, "but I still want to know why you don't want him here?"

"That's funny," Shane replied, "I seem to recall we just had that conversation."

"Oh no we didn't," Mother shot back instantly. "You told us why Knight isn't here, I didn't hear anything in there about why you don't want him to be."

"It's complicated," Shane said but even as he did, he knew it would never be a sufficient answer for Mother and exactly as predicted, she raised one eyebrow at him questioningly, as if to say 'did you really think you'd get away with that?'

"We had a fight," he went on to explain, "and I haven't seen him since. Besides, he doesn't need to know anything about this seeing as I'm not keeping her anyway."

This time, Mother raised both eyebrows but somehow, she just knew that this wasn't the right moment to push that particular point. Based solely upon the fact that he had gone from acknowledging the child as 'it' to 'her' in the space of little over an hour, she suspected it would be highly unlikely that he could leave the hospital without her.

"Alright," she conceded, patting the lump beneath the sheets that was Schofield's knee, "I think that's about enough for today. You're still wiped out. You should probably get some more sleep. We'll come back tomorrow…"

'…with reinforcements,' she added silently to herself and pressing a swift kiss to the top of his unruly mop of black hair, she hustled a still bemused Book II out the door.

Later that evening, having left Schofield alone at the hospital, Book II and Juliet joined Mother and Ralph for dinner in their regulation military cottage on the outskirts of the base. After Book II and Mother explained the situation to their respective partners, the males retreated to the BBQ with beer to recoup and protect the vestiges of their manhood - after all, if it could happen to the Scarecrow, were any of them safe? - leaving Mother alone with Juliet.

Cradling her own young son to her chest, Juliet asked, "I don't know how any parent could leave their child. Do you think he was serious when he said he didn't want it?"

"Oh no," Mother said sagely. "He wants her. He wants her so bad. He gave it away when he asked about her eyes. He just hasn't let himself realise that yet."


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

**A/N: **So I'm going to play around a little with x-men canon as well… I don't really know the comics all that well and up until now – I don't know why – I had always assumed Polaris was male. Oops. Hence an awful lot of confusion about one Alex Summers. Supposedly, Alex and Scott Summers are brothers but based on the differences in age between the movies, I can't possibly figure out how that would work. So I'm going to majorly screw around with both the comic and movie canon – hope that doesn't offend anyone. This story is mostly about the Matthew Reilly characters anyway though; I'm only borrowing x-men themes and characters in order to make this story work.

Also, I don't think I mentioned this before but forgive me if I have; this story is set a few months after Scarecrow and the Army of Thieves. For reference, Area 7 is set in July, Scarecrow is set a little over a year later in October, Hell Island is four months or so after that, so around February/March of the next year. Scarecrow and the Army of Thieves is set quite quickly after then, in April of that same year. Ergo, there's only a little less than two years from Area 7 to when this story is set and for reference, Kevin is "no older than six" in Area 7.

These chapters don't really seem to be cooperating with me. Whilst on the whole, I'm happy with how they're turning out, every word is coming out really slowly… In this situation, I think I'm going to try and implement a nice steady system. I've never really written like that before, just writing when I see fit and publishing as I go but I think what I'm going to do now is try to promise a chapter a week. Slow and steady, after all, wins the race.

Chapter 3

As it turned out, Mother's reinforcements weren't required, nor could she compete with those employed by Dr. Grey.

When Shane Schofield woke again, he found himself at exactly the eye level of a man he had never seen before in his life. An elderly man with clear blue eyes that gave the impression he could see right through Schofield and a kindly smile.

And of course, a fairly amazing futuristic looking wheelchair.

Apart from the older gentleman, there was a tall, lean man silhouetted against the window with his back to Schofield. The sunlight caught in his blonde hair. Whilst another man – perhaps it was the light playing tricks on him but Schofield would swear this man's skin was dark blue and swirled with strange markings – perched awkwardly atop the hard plastic chair in the corner like an overgrown bird of prey; and then, there was one other.

The final person in the room was arguably the most inconspicuous of the group and yet it was upon him that Schofield's gaze fell.

Because he knew this person.

Sure he was a little taller than the last time they had met. He must have been nearly eight now but he had the same bowl cut brown hair that fell into his soft brown eyes, eyes which still looked wise beyond their years. Other than that, he had the glow of a normal, healthy little boy - as opposed to one who had spent the first six years of his life in a top secret government facility, devoid of access to fresh air and other children to play with.

"Hey Kevin," Shane said warily as he propped himself up on his elbows and turned his gaze upon the others present. The man at the window didn't turn, Schofield thought he might have heard the funny looking blue man hiss and Kevin waved the same enthusiastic wave Schofield remembered but didn't say anything.

The older man continued to smile serenely.

"Hello, Shane," He said evenly, revealing a proper English accent, "My name is Charles Xavier and you don't need to be frightened, we're here to help you."

"Who says I'm frightened?" Schofield responded, forcing himself entirely upright. Friendly appearance or no, Shane had been screwed over too many times by people who ought to have been helping him to trust that statement easily.

The man named Xavier chuckled to himself, "Fear is not an ineffective emotion, I believe, Captain Schofield and you will find it hard to lie to a telepath. I and my companions here are mutants, you see, such as yourself."

Shane didn't quite know how to respond to that.  
"Right," he said slowly after a moment, "Well that explains the blue skin at least but not what you're doing in my room."

As Schofield spoke, the third man in the room – the one without a wheelchair or blue skin – turned to face him. He was conventionally handsome with blonde hair, blue eyes and carved features but his face wore an expression of utter disinterest.

"Captain Schofield, meet Alexander Summers," Xavier continued as though Shane hadn't said anything, "A young man remarkably like yourself – determined, resilient and the first to have found himself inexplicably in your situation."

Xavier turned to give Summers an amused smile, adding, "well, perhaps not so inexplicably but I'll leave the explanations to him. You may find he can be of help to you. Myself, I feel the sudden urge for a cup of tea and I do believe Kurt and Kevin would do me the pleasure of accompanying me."

"But let me just say," he added, suddenly serious, "I run a school for mutants by the name of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Should you ever be in need, our doors are always open."

With that, he swept – or rather, rolled – out of the room without a single further word, followed closely behind by the small figure of Kevin and the ostensibly odd blue man, leaving Schofield alone with this Alex figure.

"So," Schofield said to fill in the silence.

He could see crude tattoos on Alex's upper arms. Homemade tattoos, a fairly good sign that this bloke had spent some time in jail and if the muscles beneath those tattoos were anything to go on, Alex Summers did not look like the sort of man you wanted to cross. The idea of him cooing over a baby seemed almost laughable and Schofield struggled to associate him with any image of fatherhood – or should that be motherhood?

No, definitely fatherhood.  
Shane rapidly decided that anyone – except perhaps the baby – that called him 'mommy' would be on the receiving end of a high velocity impact in a delicate region. One might have thought that starting an affair with another man, leading to a deep and sincere questioning of his sexuality and an unexpected pregnancy might have made him feel at least a little emasculated but it didn't really. He'd already decided that the most mature response to this situation would indeed be to man up, accept the consequences and try and move forward from this point by doing what was best for the baby and fuck the rest of the world's opinions.

The only questioning remaining was what was the best thing to do by the baby?

Maybe Alex Summers had some answers there.  
After all, Schofield reasoned, if Summers could do it, then the Scarecrow definitely could.

"So," Alex mimicked and a smile graced his face, making him look far more approachable.

"You were the first then?" Shane asked.

Alex nodded disinterestedly.

"As far as they know," he replied, "I suppose there could've been others hiding in the deep dark jungles of Africa or whatever but if there are, they're not saying anything."

"Did you know?" Shane was burning to ask that question. On one hand, he felt like an absolute fool, not for getting pregnant in the first place but for not realising it. What sort of idiot doesn't realise they're pregnant!

With hindsight, he was beginning to think he should have known.

There had been that incident on the plane trip. Admittedly, the stark military aircraft wasn't built for comfort and the flight to the Arctic had been particularly rough turbulence wise but as he finally managed to pull his head away from the sick bag for more than a minute, he had been foolish enough to tell Mother – sitting beside him – that it was just a bit of motion sickness.

"You're a pilot," she had reminded him deadpan.

She was right of course. Schofield had never been motion sick in his life. In fact, as a pilot, he'd taken great pleasure in death defying turns and manoeuvres that made those just watching feel sick.

All the same though, she rubbed his back soothingly as he groaned and returned to losing the lunch he had really quite enjoyed at the airport before they left.

He was willing to admit he had noticed a little weight gain but nothing more than five to ten pounds, which he was more than happy to attribute to two months in the arctic with little exercise and far too much hot chocolate. That he still couldn't shake it a month after they had returned was of little concern – he'd always been on the slight side, he could afford a few extra pounds.

That said, he was absolutely firm on the fact that he had felt absolutely no movement whatsoever. Indeed, when the nurses had informed him he was pregnant and in fact in labour, after he had denied it, shouted a few obscenities and then attempted to process it, his first thought was of ice cold fear for the child – surely it was stillborn, else he'd have known it was there, would have felt it, but he never had.

On the other hand, even if he had recognised the few symptoms for what they were he never would have married them up to the conclusion he was in fact, pregnant, because after all, he was a guy and guys supposedly weren't supposed to be able to do that. So perhaps he needn't feel quite so guilty.

"Yeah, I knew," Alex Summers replied, "but I did have the advantage of living with a couple of telepaths, a handful of scientists and this one huge blue furry guy who also happens to be a genius. They worked it out, not me."

Schofield snuffed a laugh.

So perhaps the circumstances weren't quite so similar.

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy," Alex said and his face softened inexpressibly, "Names Scott, he's nearly ten now."

"You want advice?" He continued, "Cause this is the only advice I got. You think this is the scary part. This isn't the scary part. The scary part is in two days time when you've got to learn to change a nappy all on your own or work out what the hell this little thing wants when it's been crying for three hours straight and you're exhausted and you just don't know what to do. It's in a months time when your kid gets sick for the first time and you don't know how to make it better. Or in a few years, when they're learning to walk all on their own but they keep falling down. The day you gotta let them go to school, out of your immediate reach – that's scary – and when they get bigger and you start to worry about whether you've passed your mutation on, if and when it's going to manifest. When they start wanting to know how the world works and why and you don't have the answers, or at least, not any good ones. You think this part is scary right now. Trust me, it's only going to get tougher from here."

Shane just nodded.  
He knew he wasn't supposed to say thank you.  
He knew he'd never get to put that advice into practice because there's no way he can keep this baby long enough to have any of those experiences.

Suddenly, there was a tentative knock on the door and Jean Grey entered, accompanied by the small figure of Kevin, who held in his arms a small, squirming bundle making slight snuffling noises and Shane felt something in his stomach lurch.

"Hi," Jean said softly, "We just thought we'd let you know that we've finished running all manner of tests on her eyes and she's perfectly fine."

Shane let out a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding and hoped it had passed unseen.

With that, she ushered Kevin into the room and, gesturing for Alex to accompany her, they left the room. On his way past though, Schofield could've sworn Summers offered him a nod.

"Hey Kevin," Schofield said again with only a hint of unease. He knew all too well when he was being manipulated but more than that, he knew this manipulation had a significant chance of succeeding.

"Hi Shane," Kevin replied chirpily and Shane was pleased to see that he was still the same indomitably happy young boy he had always been.

"How've you been?" He asked, trying to appear casual as though super-powered small boys he hadn't seen in years routinely appeared in his hospital room holding the daughter he had only recently given birth to.

"Good," Kevin replied, bouncing the baby slightly in his arms and not looking up, "Professor Xavier's been really good to me. He took me in and now I live with him and a bunch of other people just like me in this really big house in New York and I can play with whoever I want, whenever I want. He says the only thing I have to do is learn how to control my powers but I like learning that and the professor is a really good teacher. I like learning a lot. He says we can call him Charles if we want but I like calling him 'Professor X' more and now he says you're a mutant too. Are you going to come and live with us as well?"

The words just came spurting out of Kevin like water from a tap until he was breathless and had to return to cooing at the baby. Shane could've laughed but somehow managed to keep in it. Instead, an affectionate smile spread across his face and he sat up a little straighter, leaning forward to ruffle Kevin's hair and look at the baby.

She was cute, he had to admit.

The first time he'd seen her, it was only very briefly as the nurses pulled her small, wriggling body away from his own to check her over before whizzing her off to the NICU for more tests. Then, she had been slimy, covered in blood and other fluids Schofield didn't want to think about, and her skin changed from a lifeless blue, to purple to a bright, burnished red.

Now, she was clean and her soft creamy skin was a pale pink, a few shades lighter than his own which was tanned from the years outdoors. She had a little tuft of jet black hair, chubby cheeks and the smallest little red rosebud mouth he had ever seen. She was sleeping, making the soft noises of a newborn and carefully, oh so gently, Shane ran his little finger softly across her lips. He could've sworn she mewed at the touch.

"No," he said to Kevin, "I've got to go back to my own home but maybe she can go with you."

It was, he realised, a good idea. There was something about Charles Xavier that naturally drew people, made them trust him and after all, he seemed to have done a good job with Kevin. And if as Alex had said, mutations were likely to be passed on, then surely Xavier's school was the right place for her if he would take her.

It was a good idea but still, it clenched hard around his heart like physical pain.

Displaying his uncanny knack for honesty, Kevin said suddenly, looking up, "You want to hold her."

And before Schofield could protest, Kevin had offered the infant up and his arms had closed around her almost unwillingly.

Schofield was surprised. She was heavier than expected and so warm and so soft. He had held babies before – Book II and Juliet's son, to be specific – and so it wasn't just the thrill of a little live being in his arms but the knowledge that _this_ being, this strange, remarkable little snuffly creature that lived and breathed and pooed and that was so incredibly warm was his. All his.

And she was perfect.

She squirmed a little as Kevin handed her over, not happy at being disturbed. Her snuffles threatened to become full blown cries until Schofield drew her close to his body and hushed her softly. She settled against his chest, fingers curling into the thin t-shirt he wore with an iron grip. Slowly, she opened bleary eyes and immediately found Shane's own. The exact blue of his eyes was reflected in hers.

His own eyes suddenly felt unusually wet and if anyone ever asked, he would swear it was entirely the fault of the ridiculous amount of hormones running riot through his body.

Either way, as soon as she looked at him like that, he was lost.

Schofield only had a few moments to hold her when his room was suddenly crowded again. Xavier rolled back in with Alex and odd blue man in tow. When he saw Schofield holding the little girl, Xavier might have smiled. Aloud, he simply said, "Kevin, it's time to leave and Captain, don't forget – our doors are always open."

With that, Kevin scurried over to link hands with the other three and together, they vanished with nothing more than a flash of blue smoke.

Well that explained how they got in the room without Schofield noticing.

He looked down again at the baby and his decision was made.

It was only a short while later when Mother and Book II returned to the hospital, that they found the place in disarray. The nurses were panicking, the poor girl at the reception looked harangued and there was a security guard prowling the corridors.

Mother managed to corner the nurse in charge, who could only repeat her apologies. After Mother had managed to get the full story out of her, she turned to Book II.

"They've lost him," she said in disbelief.

Book II was naturally, shocked.  
"How?" He asked, "We saw him yesterday, he looked fine."

"Not lost as in dead," Mother snapped, "lost as in gone and they can't find him!"


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

**A/N: **You might think it would be impossible to sneak out of a hospital.  
You would be wrong.

And indeed it seems to me – having been in this very uncomfortable situation a couple of times now – that the older, more doddery, more confused and more conspicuous a patient it, the more likely they are to sneak off without being noticed, even if they're still drugged to the eyeballs, supposedly unable to get out of bed and more often than not, naked.

Apologies once again for the delay in getting this chapter out. I've been on holidays without internet however, I do find the country quiet quite conducive to writing so the next chapter is only just behind it. Should be up in the next couple of days though I'm aiming for tomorrow.

As for the whole diaper/nappy debate. It's nappy, okay. A nappy.  
But the Americans will insist on getting it wrong, so for accuracy's sake, I've been using diaper.

Be prepared, this story is serious fluff.  
Like so much fluff there should probably have been a warning in the first chapter.

Chapter 4

As the nurses continued to panic and the security guard began trolling backwards through the CCTV footage, Mother – knowing Scarecrow rather a lot better than the average person – let herself and Book II into his room and tried to think like he did.

The first thing they noticed was the clear, plastic basinet beside the bed.  
It was empty.

Mother immediately strode over to the large window, overlooking the road below and a dingy Chinese take-out across.

"What are you doing?" Book II asked as Mother peered through it.

"He took the baby," she replied without looking back at him, "but he doesn't know the terrain well. I'm willing to bet he would've stayed within eyesight of safety, just in case."

Scarecrow was a lot of things, including stubborn to the point of foolhardiness, but he was smart, he always thought before he did anything and he would never, _never_, put the life of a child at risk – especially not his own.

So Mother wasn't all that worried…  
… but she was still going to kick his ass when she found him.

It was Book II who spotted it first, having joined Mother at the window.  
"There," he pointed off to the left at an awkward angle. They could just see it – close enough to be safe, hidden enough to be private – the top of a high green hedge surrounding what they presumed was a small courtyard beside the hospital.

That had to be it.

Mother slapped Book II hard across the back in thanks as she dashed from the room in search of the path that led to that little courtyard.

Which was exactly where she found him.

Schofield was sitting on the ground, leaning against the brick wall with his knees drawn up, looking for all the world like a cat content in a patch of sun. His arms braced something that was leaning against his legs, something that seemed to be moving of its own accord and Mother thought she could hazard a guess at what it might be.

"You, young man, have put the whole hospital in an uproar," Mother said loudly and Shane jumped where he sat.

Actually jumped.

The little entrance to the equally little courtyard that was currently filled by Mother was almost directly opposite Schofield's seat on the ground and yet, somehow, he hadn't seen her approach.

Perhaps it was the sun. After all, at nearly midday, the sun was beating down from just behind where she was standing and must have been shining straight in his eyes, half-blinding him.  
Or he could have been simply so immersed in the infant in his lap that he hadn't noticed.

Either way, her appearance must have startled him – having thought himself so cleverly hidden – but he managed to maintain his grip upon the little girl, careful not to disturb her.

Mother stepped out of the sun, smiling at him as he shielded his eyes with one hand to look up at her and settled herself to sit beside him.

"You know the ancient Greeks didn't consider a baby a real person until its father picked it up and claimed it," Schofield said by way of reply and Mother wondered where the hell he learnt these things.

"No, I didn't," She replied, reaching out one large hand to tickle the baby under the chin who in turn, gurgled happily. "So does that mean this little one isn't real yet 'cause she's looking pretty real to me?"

"Oh no," Shane shot back, "it's too late for that. Dammit, this is exactly why I didn't want to see her."

Mother was confused.  
"Whatcha mean handsome?"

Schofield's gaze never wavered from the baby girl, who snuffled back happily at him and though science told them she was too young to smile; they both thought they could see it in her eyes.

"I can't give her up now," Schofield said softly, clearly conflicted, "but she deserves so much better than this."

'Now wait just one second,' was what Mother intended to say – and loudly with hand gestures to boot – but she never got it out because Shane had already interrupted her.

"No, you wait," he said, stronger now, "She was there. She was there when I led us into that death trap at Dragon. She was there when Knight and I fought because he was too chicken to want anything more than a casual fuck. She was even there at Hell Island. Nine months she was there -"

"Seven and a bit months actually," Mother interrupted. "She was premmie, remember."

Schofield just glared at her.

"Seven months then, when I should've been looking after her and instead I did everything wrong," he said. "I was drinking, I was fighting. I can't stop thinking about every blow I took to the stomach. She could've died and I didn't even know."

"I didn't know," he repeated as though he was trying to convince himself more than her.

"It's a parent's job to look after their child and if the job I've done so far is anything to go on," Shane said firmly, "then what the hell sort of a father am I going to be? The best thing I can do for her is give her something – someone – better."

Mother snuffed a laugh and slid a comforting arm around his shoulders.  
"Honey," she said gently, "you do realise the first sign of a good parent is worrying that you're going to be a bad parent."

Schofield looked like he was going to interrupt again so she simply plastered one finger against his lips and shook her head.  
"Nup," she said, "it's my turn to speak now and you're gonna listen if you know what's good for you. If you love her so much that you're prepared to give her up because you think it's better for her then you're already putting her needs before your own and that's something good parents do for their kids. Besides, if she's survived bullets and gorillas and a nuclear strike and a goddamn tower falling on top of her then she's definitely your daughter already. She belongs with you."

Mother let go of Schofield's head and looked him straight in the eye as she asked him seriously, "You love her already, unconditionally?"

"Of course," Shane replied.

"Well take a good look at her." As she spoke, Mother reached out and seized him around the jaw, forcing him to look at the baby on his lap. "You know the great thing about kids? That feeling, it's mutual. No matter what, she's gonna think you're perfect because you're her daddy and you can't replace that."

"So now I'm taking parenting advice from a woman that's never had a kid," Schofield teased good naturedly.

He wasn't expecting her face to suddenly fall.  
"Not true," Mother replied softly and Schofield's face creased in confusion. "Ralphy and I had been married less than a year. We were going to call him James. Stillborn at twenty-five weeks."

Shane didn't know what to say; except,  
"Ah shit, Mother. I'm so sorry. I never knew."

"Well of course you didn't," she replied gruffly, "I never told you."

Then, with the impeccable timing of only the very young, the little baby let out a surprisingly large belch for her size, coaxing a laugh from both marines.

"Rub her back slowly," Mother advised as she showed Schofield how to hold the baby against his shoulder and pat the gas out of her.

"Just another example of something I don't know how to do," Schofield said.

"Yet," Mother retorted immediately. "Everybody's in this position no matter how prepared they think they are. Babies don't come with an instruction manual."

Pressed against his neck, the baby settled and went back to making contented snuffling sounds, one tiny hand curling tight into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Her skin against his felt like hot silk and the downy black fuzz that barely covered the top of her head tickled the sensitive spot under his own ear. She smelt sweet, the utterly indescribable smell of a newborn.

"Well I guess that's settled then," Shane said to the little girl. "You're stuck with me."

Turning to Mother, he added, "You've still got to admit though, I'm a little less prepared than most."

A picture was forming in Mother's mind's eye of a little shop tucked away in the corner of the hospital main lobby. A shop run by volunteer elderly women who looked like everybody's grandma, each wearing a pink apron. A shop stacked to the roof with baby clothes and baby blankets and the world's largest assortment of exquisite handmade teddy bears and various other stuffed animals.  
"We can fix that," She replied.

Shane raised a single eyebrow quizzically.  
"I thought you said half the hospital was in a panic looking for me?"

Mother just shrugged.  
"They can look a little longer."

In the end, they passed the better part of the afternoon in the little shop, searching through what felt like hundreds of tiny, delicate garments in various shades of pink.

"I don't understand how feminism took us to this point," Mother suddenly said as they looked. "The whole burn your bra's for women's liberation thing was great but how did it now become that it's better for girls to like trucks and wear blue and act like boys? What's wrong with little girls liking pink and fairies and tea parties? Why should a little girl that acts like a little girl be any less valuable than a little girl that acts like a little boy? It's feminism gone all wrong."

"Yeah," Shane agreed absentmindedly, looking at the infant asleep in his arms. If she wanted tea parties, he'd pour the first cup.

Mother meanwhile, was adding a little white shirt with frilly sleeves, embroidered with three hand-sewn pink flowers across the chest to a rapidly growing pile. Catching sight of it – there was an awful lot of flowers and rainbows and perhaps surprisingly, a lot of ducks - Shane said quickly, "That's probably enough. She's going to grow out of most of it pretty quickly."

"Nah," Mother replied, "I picked things a little too big on purpose so they'd last longer."

All the same, they had been gone a while now and even though the baby had been sleeping happily in his arms until now, she was probably going to wake up soon hungry and in need of a fresh diaper.  
"Well that's still probably enough," Schofield said. "I'd like to have enough savings left to pay for her college."

"Little early for that," she retorted.

Shane shook his head, remembering the cost of his own college education.  
"Nope," he replied, "never too early."

As Schofield paid for his daughter's new wardrobe, Mother tapped him on the shoulder. She had a gleam in her eye that he knew all too well and knew not to argue with.

"I'll meet you back at the room," she said.

Schofield just shrugged, "okay."

The second he re-entered the room, Book II – who had been waiting for the three of them to return for the better part of the day – was on his feet.  
"Where the hell have you been?" He demanded.

"Sorry," Shane replied as he carefully deposited the sleeping baby into the basinet. "Just needed some time to think."

Cautiously, so as not to wake the baby, Book II crossed the room to stand by Schofield's shoulder and peered into the cradle.  
"Is that her?" He asked.

"No," Shane retorted sarcastically, "it's a different baby."

"She's cute," Book II replied, reaching down to stroke the soft skin of her cheek with one finger.

"Yeah," Shane replied.

Which was how Mother caught the pair of them staring, entranced, at the tiny girl as she slept.

"Well ain't you two a pair of old softies," she said loudly, startling them both as she strode in. "Here."  
In one hand, she held a little bag out for Schofield to take.

A little confused, he opened it to reveal a small stuffed toy dog. Its face was a little mournful but the fur beneath his fingertips was the softest thing he had ever felt – except perhaps his daughter's hair.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"It ain't for you sweetheart," Mother said cheekily and Schofield cracked a smile.

"Well thank you from her then," he said as he settled the little toy in beside the sleeping infant. Unconsciously, the little girl's even littler hand reached out and wrapped around one long, silky ear – the only part small enough for her to get a good hold off.

"Well look at that," Book II said, "She likes it."

And then it was all three of their turn to stare at her, entranced.

That was, at least, until she screwed up her face and began to cry at the top of her lungs.

Schofield had read somewhere once before that the pitch of a newborn's cry was deliberately at the most irritating frequency for adult ears so as to ensure their care and thus survival in a tough world.  
The theory went that an adult would do almost anything to shut them up.  
Schofield thought this was perhaps a valid theory.

He quickly passed Mother one of the pre-made bottles of formula some thoughtful nurse had left in the small fridge - He was after all, woefully unequipped to feed her anything else – and directed her to the public kitchen on the ward where she could heat it up whilst he attended to the more pressing matter of learning very quickly how to change a diaper.  
Between the noise and the smell, he quickly decided he's rather take the noise.

Book II of course, being a good bit more practiced in the art of diaper changes, proved a great helper.

He only laughed a little bit when Shane got one of the sticky tabs stuck on his finger and helpfully added that at least she couldn't pee in an upwards direction.

When Mother returned clutching the now warm bottle of milk, amazingly all three of them, Schofield, Book II and the baby, were clean although the baby was now red faced and still crying at the top of her lungs.

Feeding her proved a great deal easier than changing her as she latched onto the bottle the second it was close enough to her mouth and drank the milk down in large, noisy sucks. When the baby was satisfied and once again sleepy, Schofield held up the empty bottle and looked at it critically.

"Remind me to get some of these before we go home," he said, "and add some formula to that list and at some point, I should probably try and get something for her to sleep in."

He was still bent over the basinet, trying to get the baby to let go of his shirt – for such a little thing, her grip was like iron – when Dr. Grey decided to pop in. With his back to the door, Schofield didn't see her approach but both Mother and Book II did. They also noticed one other unusual detail. Of all things, in her right hand, she clutched a small squashy ball.

"Shane," she said without preamble, "Close your eyes."

At the sound of his name, Schofield spun but as ordered, his eyes were shut. He had briefly wondered why she hadn't given him an absolute dressing down for running away – especially with the baby – but then he remembered; telepath. She probably knew where and why he'd gone before he did.

Mother couldn't see the purpose of whatever sort of stupid exercise this was but still, she wasn't going to argue.

Book II's eyes just narrowed, following the path of the ball as it flew rapidly across the room. Without warning, Jean had thrown it at Schofield, who with his eyes shut, had absolutely no clue. Any second now, Book II assumed it would hit Schofield smack bang in the middle of his face.  
In which case, he would laugh.

Instead, seemingly miraculously, Schofield's hand flung up and caught the damn thing.

Book II gaped.  
Mother swore.  
Jean just smiled as though she had known it would happen.

"Interesting," She said, "The Professor was right but then again, he usually is."

The three marines turned to her with blank faces and she didn't need to be a telepath to know that required further explanation.

"You have abnormally fast reflexes," the doctor said.

To which Schofield responded with, "So I've been told."

"Except, you don't." Now Jean looked excited, "You can't respond to something you can't see. It wasn't your reflexes that helped you catch that ball. I suspect your reflexes are quite ordinary. What you're doing is much cooler. You're seeing the future in the infinitesimal seconds before it happens, allowing you to react to it before it even takes place."

In her element, the doctor was practically buzzing as she examined the arm in which Schofield clutched the squashy ball, testing flexors and extensors and tapping on reflexing points before finally bringing both her hands up to rest on either of side of Schofield's head without touching.

"Just relax," she said as she worked with her eyes closed, "I'm trying to establish a mental connection with your brain. Powerful mutants such as yourself often present with several minor secondary mutations. Given the nature of your primary mutation, the professor thinks it likely you may have a degree of telepathy or telekinesis. These types of mental mutations often go together and can be trained and strengthened with a bit of willpower."

"Right," Shane said sceptically as she removed her hands, "and what makes you think I'm a powerful mutant to begin with?"

Jean opened her eyes to look straight at him.  
"Well Captain," she said, "We already know you have at least two mutations."

She blinked and suddenly, her whole demeanour changed. Gone was the enthusiastic scientist, lost in her work, to be replaced by the sensible doctor, out to help her patient.

"Now," she said, "If you'll just let me look you over, I think you'll be well enough to go home tomorrow."

Directing Schofield to sit on the edge of the bed, she gently lifted his shirt to examine the wound that just peeked out the top of his jeans. At the moment, it was hidden beneath a soft white bandage and a sterile dressing. Carefully, Jean pealed it away from his skin – provoking only a slight intake of breath – to reveal the ugly red wound. Although it was clean and healing well courtesy of the neat black sutures, the skin around it was still swollen and bruised.

"Is that where…?" Book II asked, part curious, part horrified.

Schofield just nodded, the slightest hint of pink colouring his cheeks.

"I would've thought it'd have been between your legs," Mother supplied, leaning in to get a closer look.

Jean snorted as she worked, swabbing the wound with antiseptic before carefully replacing the dressing.  
"Don't be silly," she said, "that would be physiologically impossible. To begin with, a male pelvis isn't designed to shift and expand like a woman's. The baby wouldn't have fit. Besides, these are the exact muscles we tear through to perform a caesarean section precisely because they're capable of re-knitting themselves together again quickly and in the absence of a uterus and cervical canal, these muscles are the only one's strong enough to contract in such a way to deliver a baby."

"Mother nature really is far smarter than we give her credit for sometimes," She finished with a smile as she lowered his shirt again.

She checked his blood pressure and declared it fine without issue. It was only when she tried to check his heart rate that they ran into problems. As she placed the cold metal of the stethoscope in the trough between his pectorals, her hand brushed against the left side of his chest. Out of nowhere, his entire upper body felt like it was on fire, burning and squeezing all at the same time and he gasped in pain.

"Sorry," Jean apologised, wincing as well. "Your chest is going to be unusually sensitive for a few weeks until your body realises that no matter how many hormones it pumps out, you're never going to produce milk."

"Great," Schofield muttered.

"And speaking of hormones," she continued, "your whole body is flooded with ones you've never experienced before. So don't be surprised if you feel all weepy or want to eat ridiculous amounts of chocolate. Sometimes, your body does know best so just indulge any odd wants and go easy on yourself for a while."

"Even better," he retorted.

"Well, you're in perfect health," Jean said with a smile, hanging the stethoscope around her neck. "You can go home tomorrow if you want."

Schofield's eyes drifted over to the basinet.  
"Both of us?"

"Both of you."

Schofield returned her smile and Jean didn't question his sudden change of heart.  
After all, she'd always known.

"Just one more thing," she said as she turned to leave. "The hormones involved in lactation often have a slight contraceptive side-effect which is why women often don't get pregnant in rapid sucession. Seeing as you won't lactate, your body will stop production of that hormone within the month and you won't have that luxury. Be careful. And stop in by the mansion anytime, we can help you develop your control over your mutation."

"How will I know where to find it?" Shane asked.

"We'll send someone," she replied enigmatically.

Then, with a wink, she was gone.

"Well," Shane said, "I guess that's it. We're going home tomorrow. She might have to sleep in my sock drawer for a couple of nights. Or I suppose she could sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch. It's a double; surely she wouldn't roll out if I put her in the middle?"

"You couldn't both sleep in your bed?" Book II asked.

That earned him an incredulous look.  
"Have you seen how I sleep?" Schofield replied.

To which the obvious answer was of course not. Book II wasn't to know that Schofield was incapable of sleeping still. If he didn't roll over and squash the baby then he'd probably send her flying with a well-placed kick.

"Sock drawer it might have to be."

It was getting late and so Mother and Book II took their leave, leaving Schofield to his last night of freedom. Which was why the pair of them could be found late that night, trying to break into Schofields apartment, armed with a lock gun, a couple of other marines who were willing to help and some supplies from an all-night open hardware store.


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

**A/N: **And Mr Knight finally shows up, if only briefly! Sorry Black666Hunter, I couldn't squeeze Rufus in for you but I promise he'll turn up at some point.

I did plan to get this chapter out quickly but I didn't plan on getting sick in the middle of it. Sorry again.

Just a quick note on the American health system. In Australia, a baby born at 34/35 weeks would never, ever, go home immediately. Even if they only went into the lowest level of a special care nursery, they would stay for at least a week even if they could breathe and feed. That's not the case in America. In America, as soon as the kid is good enough to go, they're gone. Most healthy babies are released from hospital within 48 hours of birth and some within 24. Since Schofield's baby was premature, I've given him a little longer than that.

On prematurity; at 33 weeks, a baby is usually developed enough to survive outside the womb without extensive support. In practice, there are an awful lot of factors that could complicate this – low birth weight, multiple births, delayed development due to smoking or drinking – and plenty of 33 weekers might need some sort of airway support such as c-pap or even ventilation. On the other extreme, I've seen babies who were born prior to 33 weeks require no such help at all. It really does depend on the individual strength of the baby. Also, most babies actually lose weight immediately after birth. I don't know why. In Australia, it's customary – though not necessary – to keep mum and baby in hospital until the baby has regained its birth weight. Based on who her father is, it seems natural that this baby would be a real little fighter, breathing and swallowing from the word go.

Also, they really do get drunk on milk. It's both convenient and highly amusing.

And as for baby noises. If you've ever known a newborn, you'll know they have a whole variety of sounds they can make long before they can speak, laugh or even smile.  
And they're surprisingly loud.

This is becoming a ludicrously long Authors Note but unfortunately the details of Schofield's unit come into play in this chapter. If you've read my other story confessions, then you'll be familiar with the cast I've used there – a conglomeration of any and all surviving characters from MR's novels. Unsurprisingly however, there actually aren't enough surviving characters to piece together one whole eight man recon unit so I've supplied one of my own O.C's. who I'm now rather fond of. The unit then, is as follows.

(CO) Captain Shane "Scarecrow" Schofield (duh!)

Gunnery Sergeant Gena "Mother" Newman

Sergeant Buck "Book II" Riley Junior

Private Robert "Rebound" Simmons (I know he left technically but hey, he's still alive and that's good enough for me!)

Corporal Sean "Astro" Miller

Sergeant Paulo "Pancho" Sanchez

Corporal "Bigfoot" (I combed Hell Island but I couldn't find a real name for Bigfoot anywhere. If someone does know it, please tell me!)

Private Harper "Skip" Grady (My O.C.)

I think this is nearly the last thing; I swear the baby will get a name at some point but I really want Knight to be a part of that choice and I think Schofield probably would too – he's an old romantic at heart I'm sure.

And this is officially the longest Authors Note I've ever written, which is saying something! Sorry guys! Here's a nice long chapter to make up for it.

Chapter 5

The following day, Book II and Mother returned to the small hospital for what was hopefully the last time. With a passing nod in the direction of the ward staff, they let themselves in to Schofield's room without knocking and found him elbow deep in soapy water. The thin mattress and blankets that were in the plastic bassinet had been removed, turning it into quite an effective bath and so Schofield had half filled it with water and was in the process of giving the baby a thorough cleaning whilst a cautious nurse watched over, giving helpful hints and instructions.

Apparently, most babies don't particularly like water or bath time.  
Well this one certainly did.

She was lashing out with powerful kicks and splashing as best as her tiny hands could, all the while gurgling happily like a pig in mud.

"Hey," Schofield said, looking up as they entered. He was almost as wet as the baby. "What're you doing here? I'm headed home today remember?"

Mother snuffed a laugh.  
"What? On your own?" She asked.

"Well, yeah," he replied, as though it was obvious.

"And how were you planning on doing that?" Mother pressed.

"I've got a car," he shot back, "How do you think I got here?"

Which was when Book II interrupted, holding up the object in his right hand.  
"But do you have a car seat?"

Schofield's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed, unable to think his way out of that one because of course he didn't have a car seat.  
"Ah," was all he managed to say.

"Ah indeed," Book II replied, "Besides, you can't take yourself home from hospital anyway so just face it, you're coming with us."

Just then, the baby let loose with a particularly large kick, sending half the bath water out and over the adults as if to say, 'I'm still here and I want your attention.'

Chuckling, Schofield lifted her out of the water and quickly pat her dry before handing her across to the nurse. Stark naked, the nurse lay her out on a funny sort of machine to take her measurements. At a little under five pounds and barely fifteen inches long, she was still tiny but her lungs were in perfect working order – as evidenced by the loud cry she gave at being removed from the water – and she was eating well. Well enough at least, to have regained her birth weight, quite a remarkable feat in a premature infant.

She also had ten perfect little fingers and toes.  
Shane knew, he'd counted.

"Looks like she's healthy and ready to go," the nurse said as the jotted the figures down in a little book. "There's only one more thing to take care of before you leave. She'll need a name."

"Can't keep calling her baby forever," Mother said.

From where he was trying to redress flailing arms and legs, Schofield piped up with, "I don't see why not. It worked in dirty dancing."

"You've seen that movie?" Mother said incredulously. "My god you are gay."

Schofield glared at her for what felt like the millionth time in his life.

He already knew what he wanted to call the baby but he wanted to check it by Knight first. After all, she wasn't only his daughter – despite the fact he'd done all the hard yards so far.

His dilemma must have shown on his face because the nurse smiled kindly at him.  
"Why don't you take some time to think about it and give us a call when you decide," she said. "It is a big decision after all. She'll have to live with it for the rest of her life. Let us know what you've decided and we'll fill out all the appropriate paperwork then."

Schofield nodded his appreciation.  
"Ta," he said, "Is that all then?"

"That's all," she replied, "You're free to go."

They stopped in long enough at the nurses' station for Schofield to pick up a couple of spare dressings and a script for pain relief. Then they cut the identifying tag around his wrist and the four of them were off.

It took the brain power of all three marines to work out how to attach the car seat to the car safely and there were many yelps of pain caused by squashed fingers and banged heads but eventually, they got the car seat in the car and the baby in the car seat and all was good. She hadn't particularly enjoyed being strapped into the seat and made her protests known loudly but once the car started she stopped and turned her attention to the scenery flashing by the windows.

"I'll swear she's looking," Schofield said, his own attention fixed on the baby. As far as he was concerned, the scenery of downtown D.C. was nothing worth attention but he supposed when you were that young, everything was new and exciting. "She's observing, taking it all in."

Indeed, the baby's eyes were wide, mirroring Schofield's own vivid blue – he never had got his sunglasses back – and tracking every passing building, vehicle and the odd tree.

"Don't be silly," Book II piped up from the driver's seat. "She's too little."

Mother on the other hand, turned to look from her seat in the front passenger seat – the pair of them had insisted Schofield sit in the back with the baby.  
"You know I think you're right. You know what that means?" She said with a wicked smile. "My sister's second was exactly like that and she was a nightmare. Never slept, talked at nine months, hasn't stopped since-"

"Sounds like you," Book II interjected.

To which Mother could only reply, "Shut up you."

"But seriously," she continued, "I know what that look means. It means trouble."

The baby meanwhile, had turned her interested eyes upon the people in the car and watched the interchange. Finally, her gaze met Schofield's and stayed there. He smiled at her.

"Well," Book II said, "look at who her daddy is. Did you expect anything else?"

The rest of the drive back to Schofield's compact apartment on the east side of the river was uneventful. When they had received their posting to the capital, Schofield had elected not to live on base and instead found himself his own little shoebox of a place, overlooking the river. It wasn't much – certainly, not much to be bringing a baby home to – but he liked it.

When they dropped him off, he invited them up for the obligatory cup of coffee and it struck him as slightly odd that they accepted so gleefully. It was only a stupid cup of coffee after all. It was only when he reached his front door that he realised his keys were locked in the glove box of his car, conveniently locked away still at the hospital car park. Grudgingly, he knocked on the door of the place opposite where a little old lady lived alone. When he first moved in, he'd given her a spare set of his keys as she seemed the unlikely sort to break in to his place and even if she did, he thought he could probably take her. She was a sweet, if not entirely there, old thing, forever inviting him in for tea and cake which he was forever politely declining. Naturally, she fussed over the baby but thankfully, didn't ask any questions. Shane didn't think he was up to answering any before he got a strong cup of coffee down his throat. The wound was beginning to ache again and exhaustion was creeping back so he was relieved when his elderly neighbour handed over the spare keys. Behind him however, he thought he heard the other pair murmuring and his curiosity intensified.

"Spare keys would've made things a lot easier," Mother whispered.

"At midnight?" Book II replied at an equally low volume. "Don't think the old thing would've appreciated that."

Schofield quirked a single eyebrow at them and the pair of them immediately shut up.

Shaking his head slightly to himself, Schofield let all four of them into his apartment. Seeing as he had left it in rather a hurry those few days ago, it didn't look too bad. Apart from an ugly red stain on the couch which he supposed he would have to deal with at some point, but not now, and three day old dirty dishes in the sink. He didn't mind. He was just glad to be home.

"Well, this is it," he was saying as a pair of hands clamped down hard over his eyes and the world turned black.

"Oi," he protested, "Not a good idea, trying to hold a baby here."

Quickly, another pair of hands – Book II's he thought - relieved him of the small, squirming burden whilst what he assumed was Mother steered him through his own apartment. Through the small kitchen diner that also served as his living room and down the corridor, she turned him hard right into what he had been using as a spare bedroom come storage space. Then and only then did she let go of his eyes.

He blinked stupidly.  
Then swore.

"Hey," Book II said, "Not in front of the baby."

He turned to look at the pair of them, matching mischievous grins plastered all over their faces and he smiled too.

"Did you do all this?" He asked.

"We had a little help," Mother said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Sanchez did the actual breaking in, Rebound and Astro and Skip gave us a hand with moving the furniture and painting and stuff. Bigfoot was gonna come but he's got a wife and little kids of his own. Not a good combination for midnight break-ins but he did donate the crib. His littlies have grown out of it. What do you think?"

Schofield surveyed the room again and still somehow couldn't quite take it in.

The walls had always been a bright white but they must've cleaned them to make them practically glow and someone with an artistic eye had painted a border of sunflowers just beneath the cornices. There was a crib in one corner and a change table in the other. They'd even managed to stock it with diapers and powder and all that other sort of stuff that babies needed but he didn't have.

But taking pride of place under the window sill was an old rocking chair.

The ratbags must've moved it out of the living room where it had never quite fit. It had belonged to his grandfather once and he'd kept it from sheer sentimentality, not because he'd ever found use of it; but here, in the little nursery and adorned with a cushion with a smiling faced sun flower on it to match the walls, it seemed perfect.

What did he think?  
He was speechless.

He tried to stammer his thanks but Mother and Book II seemed to get the idea.

After everything he had done for them – every time he had thought his way out of a seemingly impossible situation to get them all home safely or put himself at danger for their sakes – they were more than happy to be able to return the favour when he needed them.

By the time it had sunk in that his unit – his crazy unit that he wouldn't trade for anything in the world – had broken into his house and hijacked his spare bedroom to make him a nursery, Mother had already stolen the bag off his shoulder and begun to unpack the clothes they had picked out for the baby, whilst in the kitchen, he could already hear Book II brewing a pot of coffee.

After their return from that debacle up in Dragon Island, Schofield had decided it was high time he returned to active service because it seemed the action was going to follow him where ever he went. His marines had thought themselves lucky when they got their old commander and second-in-command back. Really, he had been the lucky one.

As it turned out, the three of them had barely settled the baby down for an afternoon nap when the first guests started arriving.

First to turn up was Juliet Riley, nee. Janson, with her and Book II's son, who was nearing five months old. She brought with her plenty of advice.

She and Book II decided to take their leave when Schofield's elderly neighbour knocked on the door – bearing cake and promises of hand-knitted socks.

Stereotypically, though not unsurprisingly, Skip Grady was the only other member of the unit to drop in – with absolutely no advice whatsoever, though she did help him eat some of the cake which proved delicious and Shane rapidly decided to get to know said elderly neighbour better – for the sole purpose of cooing over the baby. When she eventually left, Mother decided to go with her and Schofield had to admit he was relieved to shut the door on their backs. He was exhausted and the pain was now well and truly getting the better of him.

Of course the baby had been an angel all afternoon, sleeping soundly with her tiny fingers curled around the small stuffed dog, but as soon as Shane had finally settled himself on the couch with a glass of water and some aspirin that all changed.

The baby's cries were soft at first and in passing, he hoped she was just stirring in her sleep and would settle down again soon.

Only, she didn't.

He muttered another curse and then quickly mentally berated himself. Who knew how early kids started picking these things up and whilst a three year old with a potty mouth might be cute in a precocious way, a foul-mouthed ten year old wasn't quite so cute.

The old and horridly lumpy couch had never felt so comfortable as he forced himself upright to deal with the escalating cries coming from the new nursery. Flicking on the light switch, he found that she had managed to twist the soft baby blankets around her legs and they flailed with every violent kick. Her skin was an angry red and the veins throbbed beneath her delicate skin. Even her little tufts of dark hair seemed to stand on end.

Something twisted in his stomach at the sight of her in such obvious discomfort so he quickly ran through the checklist they had given him at the hospital. One gentle hand against her forehead said her skin was no hotter than usual, ruling out a fever and her diaper looked clean but he changed it anyway just in case. She wasn't due a feed anytime soon so he assumed it was simple company she was after. Picking her up carefully, he cradled her against his chest and hoped she'd settle soon. He hadn't been prepared for how painful her discomfort would be for him.

An hour later, she was still crying and he was at his wits end.

He'd tried pacing the room, the corridor and the lounge room, hoping the movement would soothe her.  
Only it didn't.  
He'd let her chew on his finger in the absence of a dummy and that didn't work either. How she could still scream with a mouth full of finger was beyond him but scream she did.  
He'd even tried singing and that definitely didn't work.

He was headed for the kitchen, feeling like his arms were going to give out – a squirming, screaming child is a surprisingly heavy burden, especially for extended periods of time – and his head was going to explode, in order to heat a bottle. She wasn't supposed to eat for another hour yet, lord knows the nurses had tried to drill into him the importance of sticking to routine but he was exhausted and he knew the milk would put her into that sleepy, baby-drunk sort of state. When out of nowhere, a voice startled him from his own shattered state.

"You really ought to look into your security," it said.

Schofield knew that voice and internally, he agreed with it. That was two people in the same amount of days that had successfully broken in. He was going to have to review his security arrangements now there was a kid involved.

What he said aloud, without turning to face the source of the voice, was, "I've been a little busy and if you broke the window again, my landlord is actually going to have my head."

He knew he was meant to be the reasonable one to Knight's snark like the dark, cool clouds that roll in right before the thunderstorm but dammit, he wasn't in the mood right now. It was, he reasoned though perhaps unfairly, mostly Knight's fault he was in this situation now. It was far easier to have someone to blame when he was tired and in pain and even if it wasn't entirely Knight's fault, he hadn't been man enough to deal with things before so Schofield couldn't see any way that was going to change now that things had got that great deal more serious.  
It wasn't a comforting thought so instead, he stalked off to the kitchen and didn't even offer a glance in Knight's direction.

Behind him, Knight's footsteps followed.

"What do you want?" Shane said, perhaps slamming the door of the microwave a little harder than was entirely necessary but Knight didn't reply. In fact, he didn't say anything at all because having slammed the microwave door, Schofield now had no excuse not to turn around and face Knight, which he did, glare in place, making it clear he was equally if not more deadly than Knight.

But Aloysius Knight only had eyes for the baby wrapped in his arms.

He was in no way prepared for the rush of emotion that rose up his throat and threatened to choke him, curling around his chest, squeezing until it physically hurt.  
Total, absolute, fear.

"I," he stuttered, not meeting Schofield's eyes, "I gotta go."

And with that, Aloysius Knight did something he hadn't done in a very long time.  
He turned and fled.

Shane was left – literally – holding the baby while the microwave behind him beeped its bloody incessant beep. The little girl, who had temporarily quietened down with the intrusion of the stranger now found her voice again.

As she resumed her wailing, Shane wearily leant up against the kitchen bench top and tried to coax her into eating.  
"Dammit, Knight," he murmured under his breath as the baby finally took the bottle. Her face returned to normal colour and she fixed her eyes on Shane over every soothing suck.

"Damn you."


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

**A/N: **To the anonymous reviewer; sorry I couldn't reply to you personally but yes, yes, yes! It made me so excited to see someone else thinking it was Astro. In my head canon, Astro grew up drawing fan art of his favourite comic book characters – personally I reckon he was a captain America fan – and picked up some wicked artistry skills from there that he hardly gets a chance to use now. Thank you for your review. Indeed, thank you to everyone who's reviewed, especially my ever faithful wonderful friends Prototypicality and DarkHunter643. This chapter is for you guys.

Also, I'm going with my head canon here in relation to Schofield's background. There's a slight hint in Army of Thieves that Schofield might have been from Baltimore but I just couldn't picture him as a southerner so instead I made him from a small town in Wyoming called Cody– a mid-west mountain boy – but educated at a top end school for boys in New York. The whole details are in Confessions and include perhaps my favourite scene I've ever written, a conversation between Book II and Schofield involving tea and a brokeback mountain joke.

On Schofield's grandparents. In my headcanon, they're traditional country people so Schofield's mum was probably born when they were quite young – somewhere around 20. His mum was a teenager when he was born and now he's not quite thirty. Making them around their mid 70's. Not too old but old enough to be great-grandparents.

I can't apologise enough for the really slow turnout with these chapters. Real writers block has seemed to set in. I've tried waiting for it to pass but that doesn't seem to be working so instead, I'm going to try push through it and hopefully the quality won't decrease (if it's any good to begin with…)

And last but not least… The baby has a name! (finally…)

Chapter 6

Schofield had finally settled the baby though through no prowess of his own he had to admit. She had simply cried in his arms until she exhausted herself and could hold off sleep no longer but by that, sleep was beyond him and he resigned himself to an all-nighter. His body ached and his eyes practically hurt with the effort required to keep them open but his traitorous mind was beginning to whir as it often did on nights like this when he was plagued by insomnia or woken by nightmares with no possibility of returning to a comfortable sleep.

Instead, he slumped in the nearest chair and grabbed the baby monitor, balancing it carefully on the arm of the chair. He wouldn't need it, if the baby started crying in the small apartment he would hear it with or without a monitor, but all the same, just to be sure, he made sure it was turned on. Closing his eyes, he tried to steer his thoughts away from the sort of terrors that crept up unannounced at times like this when he was so tired his very body seemed beyond his control.  
Making lists helped.

Lists were organised and focused.  
They made him feel in control.

He knew there was one list he really needed to make. It was both practical and unfortunately necessary given the situation he'd managed to get himself into. The problem was, he didn't want to.

Mostly because he knew once it was made, he'd actually have to follow through on it.

People he needed to tell

And that thought scared the shit out of him. Hell, he should probably put himself first on the list cause he was pretty damn sure he had more questions than answers.

Thanks to Mother, the list is not actually that long.

He couldn't imagine even she could have convinced the other marines to break into his apartment in order to build a nursery without telling them about the small matter of a baby and exactly how said baby came to be.  
On the other hand, someone must've told Knight and he could very well imagine it was her.

Which really only left two people.

He briefly distracted himself with the realisation that it was an abnormally short list. He really needed more friends. At some point, he should get around to telling Andy Trent and probably David Fairfax as well but he doesn't get to see either particularly often. Trent is often in another country, off on some mission, and when he is in the country, Schofield isn't. He's got less of an excuse with David, he knows that. They live in the same damn state after all but somehow, they still really only seem to see each other when the world is in imminent danger. Either way, there's no pressing need to tell either of them right now.

Perhaps he should add Jack Walsh to the list. The man did save his life after all.

Other than that, all his friends are dead.

Tangent aside, he's still got to tell his grandparents and he still doesn't want to.

He quickly calculated that even with the time difference from D.C. to Wyoming, it was still an indecent time of the night to call but if he didn't do it now, Schofield knew he'd find excuses to keep putting it off.

The phone rings half a dozen times, enough to make him nervous and he's considering hanging up when his grandmother answers it. Her voice is soft and familiar like an old blanket, faded from years of use but still an unexpected comfort. She doesn't sound like he's woken her up but she does definitely sound confused. He was pretty relieved she picked up, actually, usually his grandparents took the phone off the hook after nine thirty and it must be past ten now.

Shane let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

"Nana," he said, a little unsurely, "Can we talk?"

Half an hour later he finally hung up the phone.  
Four hours after that, he was at the airport, waiting to pick them up.  
And the baby screamed the whole way there.

She had been sleeping peacefully right up until he tried to lift her out of the cot and strap her into the car seat. Which was also when he remembered his own car was still at the bloody hospital.

"Fuck," he said loudly and called a cab.  
The taxi driver wasn't too impressed with the presence of a small screaming child and Schofield found himself rapidly giving up on the idea and directing the driver to the hospital. It was a pain in the arse to transfer the car seat to his own car but he managed, not helped by the fact that the baby was still screaming.

By the time they finally got to the airport his head was throbbing again and somehow the little tyke had exhausted herself back into sleep, looking every bit the little angel when he finally spotted a pair of familiar figures.

Schofield didn't know how he would feel about seeing his grandparents in this particular situation. On one hand, he felt shame about the manner in which all these things he really ought to have talked to them about long ago had come out. On the other, he was still heartily embarrassed that they had ever had to find out in the first place. So the first moment when he locked eyes with them, baby slumbering in the seat at his feet, it was mostly just awkward. He didn't know what to do or say or even feel.

His grandfather looked away and something inside of Schofield twisted unpleasantly.  
Something unrelated to his stitches.

In his albeit limited experience thus far of parenthood, he's discovered at least one thing – women love babies. He wasn't trying to be stereotypical or anything but seriously, everyone from the female marines in his unit to his elderly neighbour to the girl at the grocery store has thus far stoped to coo at her. Which is why he's not surprised when his nana strides through the crowd towards him. He is however, surprised when the first thing she does is wrap her arms tight around him.

It had been a while since he'd last seen her. Last time, she was a little over five foot. Now, she's a little under it and although he's aware that the pair of them are getting older and frailer, the strength in her arms belies that fact.  
Despite the height difference, Schofield folded into her embrace with ease and for the first time since the pain had begun – he still couldn't wrap his mind around the word 'labour' – he felt at ease, safe and secure.

Eventually, she let him go but moved only far back enough to cup his cheek in her hand. She looked at him and smiled in such a way that helped to ease the twisted knot in his stomach somewhat. It was then and only then that she turned her eyes to the little bundle sleeping peacefully in the seat at his feet, finally letting out the high pitched squawk of excitement that he'd been expecting as she looked upon her great-granddaughter for the first time.

"Oh honey," She said, her hand never leaving his cheek, "She's perfect."

Then, with the authoritative beckoning of the hand that only a mother can muster, she summoned Michael Schofield over and the two men were left standing awkwardly beside one another, neither one meeting the other's eye or knowing what to say.

"Oh for God's sakes Mike," she tutted and they suddenly found themselves shaking hands because if Shane Schofield was a captain and Michael Schofield had been a colonel, then Mae Schofield was the General and both men knew better than to disobey her.

And if Shane was relieved to find his grandfather's handshake as firm as it had ever been, he wasn't going to let on. After which, Mae bundled the three of them into the car and enforced polite conversation the entire way back.

By the time they arrived at Shane's small apartment, the air was tense with forced conversation. They had touched upon the weather – "much better than Cody," – and the traffic – "far worse than Cody," – and his grandfather had even been brave enough to bring up the last political debacle but they steered well away from the elephant in the room, who was sleeping peacefully in her car seat completely oblivious to the conversation around her.

Shane didn't quite know how to feel about her. On one hand, he loved her unconditionally in a way he had never thought possible. On the other, he really wished she could have chosen a more convenient manner and timing of entering the world. He would've even settled for some advanced notice.

He was also relatively sure his grandfather's feelings on the matter were remarkably similar.

So it wasn't that Michael Schofield wouldn't adore his great-granddaughter once he'd finally got around to actually giving her a proper cuddle but the implications she brought with her about his grandson – who he loved more than life itself – would take a bit of swallowing. Not that he had any problems with homosexuals at all but still, Michael Schofield was a product of an older era and whilst he considered himself pretty liberal and understanding in regards to the modern day's changes in that area, he'd never had to really face it before.  
It had never been his grandson before.

Which of course, in turn, made him wonder just how long it had been his grandson and how the hell he had missed it?

Both Schofield's understood the other's feelings understood where they stood and were happy to respect that but it was still going to be awkward as fuck for the next little while.  
Not, however, as awkward as the time grandfather Schofield had found Schofield the younger's collection of porn – hidden in the manner of sixteen year olds everywhere, under the bed – including some of his more interesting choices and had sat him down and made him explain them. After that, he found better hiding places.

On the whole, his grandmother's approach to things was a lot easier.  
She thought they were both idiots.

They would be just fine, she knew it and if they weren't, there was nothing tea and a good cuff over the ears couldn't fix.

As he let them into his apartment, Shane was glad for the brief reprieve that putting the sleeping baby to bed provided and if he lingered a minute or two over the cot, watching her slight chest move rhythmically up and down, before tucking the soft cloth blanket a little tighter around her tummy and leaving, no one had to know.

Unfortunatly, the walls of the small apartment were a little on the thin side. He didn't have to press his ear against the door back into the living room come dining room and kitchen to hear the unmistakable sound of a heated conversation. He did however, need to press in order to make out the words. He listened from sheer curiosity. Shane couldn't remember the last time he heard his grandparents argue. Mostly because whenever his Nan had that look in her eye or the inflection in her voice, his Grandpa was wise enough to shut up.

As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

" – He's your grandson, - "

" – I didn't say he wasn't - "

" - and he's my grandson too and I love him - "

" – I didn't say I don't - "

" – and you for one ought to be grateful you've got her to love too now. I never thought this day would come and I'll be damned if I let you mess it up -"

At which point, Shane thought he heard his Nan's voice finally crack, rising in pitch and he opened the door loudly to interrupt, trying to look as though he hadn't been listening through the keyhole.

"Okay," he interrupted, "She's settled. Can I get you some breakfast?"

It wasn't quite the normal person's breakfast time yet but his grandparents lived on country time so breakfast before sunrise wasn't all that uncommon for them. Besides, he'd been up all damn night now and desperately needed some coffee and a distraction.

Michael Schofield, it seemed, had a similar idea because he stumped off to the small kitchen, muttering something about bacon sandwiches.

"He didn't take it well, did he?" Schofield asked behind his retreating back.

"Give it time," His nana replied sagely, patting him on the arm. "Give it time."

Perhaps it was the sound of pans or the smell of bacon or perhaps for no other reason than that Shane was exhausted and had almost, finally, thought about shutting his eyes for a while, but the baby promptly started crying again. Thus far, it seemed she had a particular aversion to actually sleeping in her crib and Shane was practically at the point of bundling her up and driving around aimlessly – the only way she would sleep – if he wasn't so concerned about falling asleep at the wheel and making mince meat of both of them without mentioning other innocent road users.

He might've groaned aloud because his nana's grip on his elbow tightened.  
"Want me to go?" She asked.

Shane shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine," he said. "Shouldn't really have bothered putting her down to begin with, she hasn't fed for a while but I thought I'd try squeeze a little more sleep out of her when she was in the mood."

In the time it took for him to fetch the red faced baby now thrashing her little legs as hard as she could – which was surprisingly hard – against his bare arms, his Nana looked like she hadn't moved an inch but she must have because in one hand she held out an already heated up bottle.

"Thank you," he mouthed wordlessly and sank onto the couch.

It took the little girl a matter of minutes to guzzle the milk down and just as many to bring it back up again between increasingly desperate screams.

Shane did his best to mop it up with his shirt but there was absolutely nothing he could do to calm the baby down. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, nothing was ever good enough. She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't sleep. He couldn't help her when she cried. He was exhausted, in pain and starting to feel pretty damn desperate himself. He loved her, for sure, but right now he wasn't so damn sure he liked her.

Thank God for Grandmas.

In seconds, Mae Schofield had swooped down and took the babe firmly in hand, cradling her upright against her chest, little head tucked into the wrinkled folds of her neck, and hushed her with same stern but gentle voice that had soothed countless nightmares and tummy aches and everything in between.  
"Ol' Nana Mae got you," She murmured, "Now hush now, everybody else is trying to sleep."

And miraculously, blessedly, unbelievably, she did.

Shane just stared at what could be his two favourite women on the planet for a moment.

Then he said, "How the fuck did you do that?"

With one hand, his Nan slapped him hard across the thigh for the language and winked at him.  
"Colic," She replied nonchalantly, "You had it too."

Carefully, she steered the now calm infant back into his arms.

"Hold her tight up against your chest," she instructed. "The longer you keep her upright, the better it'll be."

The baby's hair was soft against his cheek and though her skin was still damp and hot, it was the right shade of pale pink.

Shane smiled.  
So did his nana.

The baby didn't, she was asleep.  
Finally.

Shane was contemplating falling asleep right then and there too when a plate of bacon sandwiches landed on the coffee table in front of him with a grunt. As quickly as he'd appeared – with sandwiches – Michael Schofield was gone again to the relative safety of the kitchen.

"I should talk to him, shouldn't I?" Shane said wearily.

Mae Schofield didn't even need to say anything. She just nodded over the knitting she had pulled out from her handbag and began counting stitches. No baby could ever have too many booties.

With a sigh, Shane handed over the baby and took off after his grandfather.


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

**A/N: **Okay, I'm sorry about the last chapter – it was bad and I know it was bad but I just had to get rid of it or I'd never get past it. I was actually going to name the kid and have Knight reappear and whatnot in that chapter but I just wanted a clean break and start writing good again. Damn Schofield's grandparents for being so difficult to write. Thanks if you've stuck with me anyway!

I've been trying to do some reading on what the hell marines do when they're not off saving the world. The answer from all the official high up guys is: train. The answer from all the normal grunts is: bullshit. So I'm trying to make a plausible sort of routine for Schofield. Knight, being a bounty hunter, can do whatever the hell he likes when he likes.

Also, I checked. In parts of the USA, a child can legally be without a name for up to a year. So really, Shane's not doing that bad. I hope you do like the name though...

In my head, when I see Mae Schofield, I see Betty White. Especially Betty White in the Proposal, "Don't make me call your mother." Whole movie, worth it to hear Betty White say that line.

The link to a picture of the book is on my livejournal since doesn't allow links.

Writer's block officially gone. Here's a chapter to celebrate!

Chapter 7

Michael Schofield had been the one constant, solid presence in Shane's life and the closest thing to a father. He had taken him from training wheels to landing gear. Taught him how to put a bullet between the eyes every time as well as tactically whoop anyone's arse at chess. So seeing his grandfather, looking so out of place in his own little kitchen, refusing to even meet his eye was making his chest feel unusually tight.

Shane Schofield cleared his throat loudly, making his presence known so his grandfather had no choice but to look at him.

"You're angry with me?" Shane asked as he walked over to his grandfather's side and picked up a dishtowel.

"No," Michael Schofield replied gruffly, elbow deep in soapy water.

"You're disappointed with me?" Shane amended; taking the wet frying pan he was handed. "God, that's worse."

"No," Michael repeated, drawing the single syllable out a little longer. "I'm not disappointed with you. I'm disappointed that you never thought you could talk to me about any of this."

Shane made sure there wasn't a drop of water or soap left on the gleaming fry pan – probably the cleanest it had ever been in its life - before putting it away.  
"What if I didn't realise there was anything to talk about?" He asked with his back to his grandpa.

"You didn't think I would be interested in my only grandson being gay," Michael Schofield asked evenly. "Or you didn't think I would want to hear it? The world I grew up in might've been a little different to now but I'm living in this world just like you. I'm not gonna hate you or be angry or even disappointed with you if you are. Don't go accusing me of thinking anything before you even talk to me about it."

"Well don't you put words in my mouth either," Shane retorted, "I didn't accuse you of anything and I didn't say I was gay."

"Are you?"

It was perhaps the most profoundly simple question Shane Schofield had ever been asked over a soapy frying pan as his grandfather held another one out to him.

"I dunno," He replied, "I might be. When I called you, it was mostly about the whole baby situation, not the sleeping with a guy that led to it. I'd really rather talk about the other stuff when I've got it a bit more together."

"We can talk about that instead, if that's what you prefer," Michael Schofield said, letting the water out of the sink and turning to face his grandson, "but there's a fair amount of overlap."

"Like?"

"Like her other father. Kid needs two parents."

Shane smiled wryly.  
"I only had one," he shot back.

"Kiddo, you struck the lottery," his grandpa retorted, reaching out with one hand to clasp Shane's shoulder. "You had three."

"I'm not really sure if her other dad wants to be in the picture," Shane replied, looking at his feet.

"There's a fair bit you're not sure about, hey?" Michael said sagely, "But you're gonna have to be soon, you've got a kid to look after now and if I do say so myself, a mighty cute one."

Shane snuffed a laugh.  
"And yet, you still haven't spent more than thirty seconds in her presence."

Shane paused, before looking up to catch the older man's eye, faded to a milky blue through the years but still firm, still warm.  
"Want to hold her?" He asked.

"Yep," Michael Schofield replied, nodding his head as they moved toward the door. As they approached it however, he threw his hand out again to catch Shane gently around the shoulder and stop him. "I just got one more question. Do you want the other guy in the picture?"

Shane was silent for a long moment but he never dropped his gaze.  
"Yeah," he said eventually, "I think I do."

"And we'll talk more later?" Michael pressed.

"That's two more questions Pop."

Michael Schofield just raised an eyebrow. Shane was tempted to do the same just to tease him but in the end he just sighed and conceded, "Yes, fine, whatever. There's bacon sandwiches getting cold."

With two hands now on Shane's shoulders, Michael steered both of them back to the living room where the little girl was still happily curled up against her great-grandma.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it boys?" Mae said over the gentle click of knitting needles. "And Shane love, you really ought to buy a swing-seat or even one of those new fandangled sling things to go around your chest. It'll keep her more upright and stop the colic upsetting her."

"Sure thing, Nan," he replied, slumping onto the couch beside her and helping himself to a sandwich from the still heaped plate. "Let grandpa hold the baby."

A tad reluctantly, Mae handed the baby over, being careful not to wake her. At first she squirmed a little in Michael Schofield's weather beaten arms but then let out a little huff and settled down again. The look on his face was priceless.

"Well now," he said, "It's been a long time since I got to hold a baby and even longer since it was a little girl. What's her name?"

"Um, about that," Shane replied, suddenly sheepish. "It's a little complicated."

"Shane Schofield," Michael piped up with immediately, "You saying this baby doesn't have a name yet?"

"I know that," he retorted and then blushed. "It's just, I kinda want Knight to have a say in it too."

Mae grinned at him fondly.  
"Is that your fella's name?"

"He's not my fella," Shane corrected automatically.

"And what sort of a name is 'Knight,' anyway?" Michael said, gruff tone completely at odds with the way he was staring at the baby.

"Aloysius, then," Shane said exasperatedly. "His name is Aloysius."

"Well, he's not here," Michael shot back, "and the kid needs a name now."

Then, he brought her up close to his face and took a deep breath.  
"Needs a new diaper too," he added.

Just then, the doorbell rang and all three of them turned to look at it.

"I'll get the diaper," Michael said, "You get the door."

Mae just went on knitting.

Shane decided to take it as a sign of deep remorse that Knight had actually rung the doorbell, as opposed to his preferred method of entry through the window – usually sneakily. He also thought about slamming the door back in his face but seeing as it would both wake the baby and pique his grandparents' interests, decided against that particular course of action. Instead, all he managed was a very smooth and totally not confused, "Hi."

To which Knight could only reply, "Hi."

So of course, Mae - being all seeing in the way that only grandmother's can be – piped up with a cheerful, "Hello," and wandered over to assess the situation under the pretence of introducing herself.

"You must be Aloysius," she said kindly. "We've heard so much about you."

Standing just outside his grandmother's peripheral vision, Shane shook his head vigorously and mouthed hastily at night, "No they haven't."

Knight just raised both eyebrows curiously and smirked but Mae didn't notice, having already turned her attention on Shane.

"Shane, love," she said, "Why don't your Pop and I find a hotel, it's been a very busy night and I'm sure you want to settle in."

"Don't be silly," Shane backtracked, "You can stay here, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No," she said firmly, patting his hand. "I don't think your grandfather and I are quite up for the night time demands of a newborn and besides - " she quickly shot a sly look at Knight, " – we're interrupting."

Out of the corner of his eye, Shane could see Knight practically pissing himself with stifled laughter and right in front of him, his grandma bellowed with surprising strength, "Mike, we're leaving."

The next minute, she was pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek and saying to Knight, "It was lovely meeting you dear."

"Pleasure's mine, Ma'am," Knight replied and Shane was reminded that he could be a smooth bastard when he wanted. Then she was followed out the door by a very bemused Michael Schofield who looked like he wanted to shake hands with Knight but thought better of it.

The sun was barely up and thus far, it had been one hell of a morning.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Schofield demanded of Knight, safely out of earshot of the baby.

With that, Knight sobered up pretty quick. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times as though trying to say something but the words were lost on his tongue. In the end, he gave up after a few abortive attempts and instead held out a slim package, wrapped in plain brown paper.  
"I didn't have any wrapping paper, but I really want her to have it," he explained self-consciously.

Shane just stared at the small gift for a few moments, confused until Knight gave it a little shake.

"Will you just take it," he said shortly.

Schofield took it, hesitantly before finally brushing the thin brown paper off to reveal a slightly battered picture book. The book itself looked old-fashioned and the pages were slightly yellow with age but the illustrations were still bright and warm and the title spelled out in large decorative letters, 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.'

"It seemed appropriate," Knight said with one hand behind his neck in an unusual gesture of uncertainty, "Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, hair black as ebony and all that jazz."

"It's beautiful," Shane said without looking up, "thank you."

"There's an inscription," Aloysius added softly.

Shane turned the first page over.

There were two actually. The first was written in faded blue ink across the inside of the hard cover in a spidery, delicate handwriting.

To Christopher David Knight – it said -  
On the Occasion of Your Christening

And the second below it, written in new black ink, in Knight's no nonsense script;

To  
From Your Brother

Then, Shane looked up to meet Knight's gaze with his mouth half open and utterly speechless.  
There weren't really words, not to describe this.

Knight on the other hand, looked like he'd finally worked out what to say.

"Look," he began, "I know I sort of fucked things up but I've already lost one child and I swore to myself if I was ever given that chance again, I would never lose another. If it's okay with you, I would really like to be a part of her life."

Shane didn't really know what to say to that. He wasn't sure if Knight just wanted to be a part of her life or if he was asking for a place in their lives as a family or even their lives together but he wasn't immediately disposed to saying no. At the very least, the guy did have rights as the biological, albeit other, father.

What he said aloud was, "do you want a bacon sandwich?"

In the end, they polished off the entire plate between them. They weren't half bad cold really and they were both hungry. When they were done, the first stirrings of a thin cry could be heard coming from the baby's room but it wasn't the same desperation filled cry of before. Schofield, stomach full and now very sleepy, leant his head back against the couch and said, "you wanna go deal with your daughter?"

"My daughter?" Knight repeated querulously. "Why is she my daughter now?"

"Cause I've done more than my fair share of the hard work so far, so it's your turn," Shane muttered, eyes closed. "She's probably just hungry."

Knight tutted a little but he did go up and see to the crying baby.

"First on the right," Shane called out after him before dragging himself off the couch to prepare a bottle. When Knight came back into the kitchen with an armful of squirming infant, he handed him the bottle silently before leaning his butt up against the counter to watch. Despite his previous parenting experience, it was clear Knight had never actually had to bottle feed a child and was a little hesitant in the way he held the bottle. All the same, the child was hungry and she latched on and began to draw powerful sucks, keeping eye contact with the new person holding the bottle all the while. Crossing his arms, Shane watched a small smile creep into the corners of Aloysius' mouth and smiled himself at the sight.

"She's…" Knight began but found there weren't really words to describe the feeling of looking at, holding, his own precious child.

"Perfect?" Shane supplied.

Knight looked up at him and smiled properly.  
"Yeah."

"What's her name?" he continued after a moment, "I didn't know what to put on the inscription in the book so I just left it blank and figured I could put it in later."

"That's sort of the thing," Shane said, rubbing the back of his neck, "She doesn't have one yet."

"What?" Knight deadpanned.

"I wanted your input," Shane was forced to admit with only the hint of a blush.

Knight just laughed at him.  
"You're secretly a romantic sap, aren't you?"

"I might have to kill you to disprove that," Schofield retorted but he was laughing too.

Knight took a long hard look at the infant in his arms. She was Shane in miniature with shockingly deep blue eyes and messy little tufts of black hair that showed just the beginnings of a cowlick.  
"I suppose you want to call her Elizabeth," he said jokingly.

To which Shane replied seriously, "but not Libby, that's a little too close to home."

Knight thought long and hard about exactly how far he could tease Schofield in this matter. Just because they had managed to break down a lot of physical barriers but there were emotional lines he knew better than to cross. In the end, he settled for repeating, "romantic sap," fondly, which earned him a quick "shut up," from Schofield in return but entirely without bite.

"Seriously, though," Knight said, "you don't think naming your kid after your dead girlfriend is a little morbid?"

"I know, I just," Shane struggled to find the right words to describe how he felt – how he wanted to move on with his life without feeling like he was dishonouring her memory and how some part of him still clung on to any shred of her. "I want to but I don't know if I can."

Knight looked thoughtful.  
"Well, what about something that reminds you of her but not actually Elizabeth? Eilis is the Gaelic version, it's cute."

"She'll be forever teaching people to spell or pronounce it," Shane vetoed, "something simpler."

"Elsa? It's Swedish."

"She's not Swedish though."

"Right."

"Eliza," Knight began, rolling the syllables around his mouth, "Beth."

Schofield had been absentmindedly scuffing the plain white kitchen tiles with his sneaker but suddenly looked up.  
"What about that?" He said. "Bethany, Beth for short?"

Knight gave a non-committal grunt that sounded like assent.  
"What's your grandma's name?" He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Mae," Shane replied. "Why?"

"Mae," Knight repeated, "It's pretty like her but still simple and bound to come back into fashion soon. Sounds like a good middle name. Bethany Mae she is."

Shane didn't know what to say to that.  
"Thanks," he eventually settled on.

Knight just shrugged his shoulders as best he could with an armful of baby.  
"Sometimes you think too much," he ribbed gently. "Now she's got a name that actually means something special. That wasn't too hard was it?"

The baby, Bethany, then decided to demonstrate her approval by projective vomiting her latest meal back up all over Knight. Schofield, stifling a laugh, was wondering how on earth she managed to bring up so much of it because he could have sworn there wasn't that much going down. Despite having been covered in a rather creative wealth of noxious substances before, Knight was still mildly horrified and so Shane tried to reassure him it was more milk than vomit really, she hadn't really had time to digest it after all. All the same, Knight made an impressive array of noises before thrusting the baby back at Schofield and making a break for the shower.

As he took the baby back, Shane couldn't help but be impressed by her aim. There wasn't a single spot on herself.  
"You know what," he said, "I think we're going to get on just fine."

Beth just gurgled happily through gummy lips.


	8. Part 1: Chapter 8

**A/N: **I've only got a little note this time! Tweety bird, of Tweety and Sylvester fame, is absolutely 100% male and it is therefore a completely acceptable choice for a small boy to name his pet. In my head, I can just see little Shane being fully aware of this fact and having to defend it to his friends/schoolmates etc.

This chapter jumps perspectives a bit. I wanted to introduce Knight's perspective into things as well. Also, I did some googling on the condition Knight supposedly has called "acute retinal dystrophy" and couldn't find a damn thing. Not even something that sounded like Knight's condition with a different name so I reckon Mr. Reilly invented it. If someone who has it or knows someone else who does wants to correct me of that opinion, please go for it. Until then, I'm going to basically invent symptoms, treatment, whether or not it's progressive etc.

Finally, you can drive from D.C. to North Carolina in around about an hour. I checked.

Okay maybe not as little a note as originally thought. It grew, it wasn't my fault. I'm incapable of a little authors note. Happy first day of spring (for tomorrow if you live on my side of the world)!

Chapter 8

Whilst Knight disappeared off to scrub every last trace of vomit off his skin, Shane thought about beginning to clean up the mess his kitchen had become. There were week old dishes in the sink with food remains now dried on in craggy raised lines and the garbage was beginning to overflow but neither of those tasks was able to be accomplished with one hand – his other currently in use holding a small squirming child still remarkably pleased with herself – so instead he settled her against his shoulder and began flipping through the overlarge mail pile tossed haphazardly on the bench. Most of it joined the already too full bin – rubbish like advertisements and coupons and if the odd important piece like a pay slip or bill found its way in there too, he wasn't overly worried.

Shane got through about half before giving the rest up as a job for another time. The remaining mail was important enough that he should probably deal with it at some point when he wasn't only two-thirds conscious. So he ambled slowly up the hall, careful not to disturb Beth, who had managed to get a mouthful of his t-shirt and was gumming away at it. When he reached his own bedroom, he pulled open his chest of drawers and rifled through for anything that would fit Knight. In the end he settled on a pair of loose black sweatpants and a black t-shirt, knowing Knight would appreciate the colour choice.

Making his way back down the corridor, Schofield rapped hard on the bathroom door – it was unlocked but all the same, basic courtesies said you shouldn't just walk in on someone in the shower no matter what state of undress you'd already seen them in, without warning first.

"What," Knight called back, voice muffled by the sound of water.

"Brought you some clean clothes," Shane called back through the door.

Knight let out a grunt that was probably thanks so Schofield pushed the door open and quickly deposited the clothes beside the sink, studiously avoiding the acres of tanned skin and muscle that made up Aloysius Knight.

Returning to the living area, he slumped back on the couch, Beth still pressed against his shoulder, her cheek pressed into a growing wet patch.

When he was younger, Shane had had a pet bird. Actually, they'd had rather a lot of pets, growing up on a ranch out in mountain country. There were always a couple of dogs to chase the handful of sheep they kept so they could at least feel like they were sort of putting the wide open space of the ranch to good use. Shane had learnt to ride a horse before a bike and had always loved their soft brown eyes and sleek hair. Then there had been a stray black cat with white paws like she'd walked through wet paint and even though his grandma swore that damn cat didn't belong to them, his grandfather always left a bowl of milk out and the cat always came back. So Shane had grown up with animals but the bird, the bird was all his, his to feed and clean up after and play with. It was just a little budgie with pale blue feathers and a piercing whistle but it had so captivated him. As a young boy, he could waste hours just sitting in his room watching his little bird – creatively named 'Tweety.' Shane liked the way it would sit on his finger, scratchy claws at odds with silky soft feathers, and the way it slept with its head tucked under its wing but most of all, he loved the sounds it made. When it chirped it was like a language all of its own that it kept secret from him, mixed with the rise and fall of a melody.

The baby reminded him of that bird with the way she babbled baby nonsense in his ear. Her skin felt like warm silk, impossibly soft and yet she was still such a solid weight in his arms, pressed against his chest. Almost as heavy as the weight of responsibility that had landed on his shoulders. She was his to look after and play with and try and do right by. It was the sort of challenge he hadn't ever been prepared for but then again, no one had ever accused him of giving up without a fight.

Knight's shower was cursory at best. His life was more often than not lived on the run and a quick shower was a habit he had fallen into and now couldn't break.  
Water on, soap on.  
Soap off, water off.

It was perfectly effective of course but he hadn't really enjoyed a wash in years.

Cutting the water off, he reached for the only towel in the shoebox bathroom. He didn't have any issue at all with imagining the soft fabric in contact with Schofield's naked skin. Pulling on the offered clothes, he was rubbing the towel through his wet hair when he strolled back into the living room where he found Schofield asleep on the couch with baby drool on his shirt.

When Knight entered the room, he immediately noticed a change in the other's body language. The deep, easy breathing of sleep was replaced with carefully controlled breathes and although he didn't so much as twitch, every muscle in his body was tensed at the ready.  
Schofield was a weapon as much as he himself was, Knight reminded himself, deadly and utterly intriguing.

"You look dead on your feet," Knight said casually, tossing the towel aside.

Without opening his eyes even a slit, Schofield retorted, "'M not on my feet."  
The effect was mostly lost however as the words came out as little more than a mumble.

Cautiously, Knight crouched down on his haunches in front of Shane and was rewarded with one blue eye slowly opening to stare at him.  
"Why don't you go rest for a couple of hours, I'll look after her," he said quietly.

Shane didn't argue but he didn't move either. So Knight prised the baby out of his arms and nudged Shane with his foot until he got up. After that, all he needed was a quick shove in the direction of the bedroom which Knight was more than happy to supply.

"Well," Knight addressed the little girl as Shane disappeared down the hall. "I guess it's just you and me."

In the end, Shane slept solidly for four hours and probably could've gone for longer. He wasn't sure what had called him back to the land of the living but a quick glance at the clock showed it was after lunch so he forced himself upright and brushed the last of the sleep out of his eyes. If he didn't get up now, there was no way he'd sleep that night. That was of course, assuming the baby would let him have any sleep this night. He donned his sunglasses and wandered into the kitchen, where Knight was pacing back and forth and gently bouncing the baby.

"Having fun?" Shane quipped as he entered.

Shane had been too tired to notice before but now he could appreciate the way that the loose pants we're slightly too short on Knight's taller frame so he'd pushed them low on his hips to compensate, revealing a strip of flesh where abs met his hipbone. Where Schofield was all lean graceful strength in a slightly more compact package – in the real world, his five foot ten was tall. Not so in the marines – Knight was taller and bulkier. The shirt Shane had lent him was tight to begin with. On Knight is clung across his chest and arms like a second skin.

"You're kidding right?" Knight replied, looking frazzled. "She screamed for nearly two hours. Then I fed her and then she threw up again. So I cleaned that up and figured she'd probably still be hungry seeing as her lunch ended up on the carpet so I fed her again. She's calmed a little now but only as long as I keep moving."

As if to prove his point, he stopped pacing and immediately, Beth struck up a thready cry. Knight started pacing again and the cries petered out before they become fully fledged screams.

Schofield snorted a laugh as he walked around him and began working on the pile of dishes in the sink with a slight clatter.

"What are you doing?" Knight asked, bemused.

"What does it look like," he shot back.

"You, being domestic," Knight replied. "You can't be domestic. You're Shane Schofield, saves the world six times before breakfast -"

" – and still has to do the dishes after," Shane retorted with a smile, flicking soap suds at him playfully.

Just then, the phone rang. Knight had his hands full with the baby but Schofield was elbow deep in soapy water, so he managed to shift Beth until he had a free hand and grabbed the phone just before it went to voicemail.

"It's for you," he said to Shane after a minute.

"Funny that," Shane replied, "This being my house and all."

Knight screwed his face up and stuck his tongue out at him but still sauntered across the kitchen and accommodatingly held the phone up to Schofield's ear so he could answer it. Tilting his head, Shane managed to catch it between his head and shoulder, giving Knight his hand back.  
'Thanks,' he mouthed as he listened to whoever was on the other side.

"Hey Nan," Knight heard him say after a moment.

Which was when the idea hit him and once Aloysius Knight got an idea, he didn't let it go without a fight.

"Hey," he said softly, tapping Schofield on the shoulder. "Do you think your Nan would mind watching the baby for a few hours?"

Schofield's forehead crinkled in confusion but he repeated the question anyway and as far as Knight could tell, it received an enthusiastic response. Another minute or two later and he was hanging up the phone with a quiet, "Thanks Nana," and "I love you too."

Then he turned to Knight.  
"So what's that all about?" He asked.

Knight grinned wickedly.  
"I've got something I want to show you," he said, "but we can't take her."

In the time it took them to finish the dishes and change Beth's diaper again, Schofield's grandparents had arrived. Knight let them in and Mae smiled warmly at him.

Michael scowled but only a little.

"Hey," Shane said, hurrying into the room and leaning down to kiss his grandma's soft cheek. "I've just put her down for a nap. She's had a busy morning so hopefully she'll sleep for a while. Formula's in the fridge and -"

Mae interrupted him with a gentle hand to his cheek.  
"I think we can handle this, sweetheart," she said. "Now where did you say you two were off to?"

"Um, we didn't," Shane replied.

Michael Schofield looked like he was going to say something but Mae cut him off with a hearty wink, saying, "Well wherever it is, make sure you're not home before dinner."

Seeing as Knight was currently sans car – he refused to tell what had happened to the last one and every rumour was larger than the one before – they took Shane's classic ford Capri and no matter how tired he was or how much pain was still lingering in his body, there was no way Schofield was letting Knight drive his car.  
Not with his track record.

Wherever it was they were off too, it was evidently a while away. Knight provided basic directions but once they hit the freeway they were just cruising from there. Shane couldn't be sure but it looked like they were leaving the state.

They definitely wouldn't be back in time for dinner then.

"Your grandad's one scary shit," Knight said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled, causing Schofield to laugh.

"He's just trying to intimidate you," he replied.

"It's working," Knight shot back.

Shane just smiled, rolled down the window and turned the music up.

It took nearly an hour and Knight's guidance through the back streets of North Carolina but they finally pulled up in a nondescript suburban street on a seemingly peaceful and boring afternoon. It hadn't escaped Schofield's attention however, that they were pretty close to Fort Bragg – the famous training grounds for Delta force.

Knight looked around hard before they even got out of the car and the second they did, he pulled both of them surreptitiously behind a bush. Holding up a hand to silence Schofield, he peered out and around at a house across the street and a few doors down that at first glance looked identical to the others around it but on closer inspection, he could see the porch was heavy with cobwebs and the garden was overgrown. It looked damp and dark and neglected. Whatever it was Knight had planned, it was yet to make sense to Schofield yet.

"What are we doing?" He hissed at Knight's back.

"We're breaking in," Knight replied without turning back from his surveillance.

"Why are we breaking in to that house," Shane whispered back, only a little concerned. "It's deserted."

Knight took a deep breath.  
"It's my house."

Schofield thought about it for a moment and then quickly rephrased the question.  
"Why are we breaking in to your house? Most people use the front door last I checked."

This perhaps explained Knight's unusual habit of climbing in through Schofield's windows whenever he got a chance.

"I reckon it's still being watched by the government and I'm not taking any chances," Knight shrugged.

"Cause breaking in is so much more subtle?" Shane retorted sarcastically, "And besides, the government cancelled the bounty after the whole helping save the world thing, remember."

Knight turned and gave him a wicked smile.  
"There might have been some paperwork I was meant to fill out…"

Shane just rolled his eyes.

Abruptly, Knight decided he'd seen enough and the place was secure so he broke cover and dashed across the road. With a nervous glance around for any nosy neighbours spying on their odd behaviour, Shane followed. Catching up to Knight, he found him crouched down and lifting up a half-rotten floorboard to reveal a small silver key, tarnished with age and disuse. Knight held it up and smiled at Shane's disbelieving expression.

"After all that," he said, "we're going to use the front door?"

Knight just smiled back at him innocently.  
"Of course," he said, "I wouldn't want to break my own windows."

Shaking his head, Schofield followed as Knight opened the door with a long creak and let them into the house.

The place was like a ghost town. The electricity had been cut off and the furniture was covered in heavy white cloths. Anything of potential importance had been taken by the FBI years ago but in a small bedroom off the corridor, where Shane found Knight on his knees in front of a cupboard, he realised they hadn't taken the things that really mattered.

Shane purposely didn't look at the cot in the corner, gathering dust and cobwebs. Instead, he looked at Knight and at the box in front of him. Half of Knight's lips quirked upwards in a smile for long ago memories while the other half of his face remained studiously blank. Turning to look at Schofield, he held out one tiny shoe, letting it drop into Shane's hand.

"I never thought I'd have reason to use this stuff ever again," he said, voice thick with joy intermingled with pain.

Shane watched as Knight carefully unpacked the box in front of him before pulling a second out of the cupboard and doing the same. Each item was set out until he was surrounded. He looked each one over with a critical eye – checking for moth eaten holes or chipped edges – which belied the gentle way he turned them over in his hands, running gentle fingers along their grooves and through soft material. In the end, there wasn't much he put back in the first box.

A christening gown.

A handful of battered books.

A carved wooden rattle.

The other tiny shoe that matched the one Schofield held in his hand.

A soft baby blanket that looked like it might've been made by loving hands many years ago, now faded but not worn.

The rest was returned to the second box which was carefully sealed and returned to the cupboard. Shane didn't know quite what to do with himself whilst Knight methodically worked but he knew that Aloysius needed to do this and that maybe just his presence would be enough.

When Knight finally turned back around and lifted the small box, Shane offered him a warm smile and in return, Knight held out the open box and let him drop the other shoe into it.

"Ready to go?" He asked.

Knight just nodded.

"Home then," Schofield said, which prompted a slow steady smile to spread back across Knights face.

"Oh no," he retorted, "We're not done yet. Babies need a hell of a lot of shit and we've barely got half of it."

And Shane definitely did not notice Knight's use of the word 'we're."  
No he did not.

In the end, they stopped for lunch at one of Knight's favourite little hotdog joints before spending the rest of the afternoon perusing for baby things in a more conventional manner.

They argued for a while over whether to buy a plastic or wooden changing table.

"She's just going to shit on it," Schofield had argued, "and plastic's easier to clean."

"The idea is she shit's in the diaper, dumbass," Knight retorted, "and besides, plastic is tackier and more likely to collapse underneath her when she gets bigger."

Shane was about to call him paranoid when he quickly remembered that such a comment probably wouldn't go down well in light of Knight's previous experiences and stopped himself just in time.

The entire argument was proved redundant anyway when they both remembered Bigfoot had already donated a sturdy, wooden, change table.

On the other hand, they both agreed without question to go for the safest, durable option for a pram, which given both their histories seemed a rational and sensible choice and not only because it would make them feel more masculine going for a run around base with.

Their last purchase was one they both felt was a stroke of genius really. Seeing as Beth had yet to show any tendency of being a heavy or consistent sleeper, they chose a soft cushioned patchwork mat that could be spread out over the floor. The patchwork was various bright colours and had buttons and shapes and differing textures across it – some patches were filled with rice like miniature beanbags whilst others had Velcro stripes – for her to explore and entertain herself with. If they put it in the living room, they reasoned, they could keep an eye on her and still keep their hands free.  
At least, until she learnt to crawl.

By the time they returned to the apartment, Shane's grandparents had already fed and set Beth down to sleep and as much as a part of Shane wanted to go and check on her and hold her close, the far more rational side of him knew better than to wake her up and was grateful for the reprieve. He waved them off as Knight unpacked the things they had bought.

Whilst Knight rearranged his house, Shane slipped into the bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief. No matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, he was still recovering and the day had really taken it out of him. He downed a couple of pain killers with a mouthful of water swilled straight from the tap and began to peel his clothes off. He was trying to take his t-shirt off when the stretch in his arms pulled at the stitches across his abdomen and he let out a sharp hiss of pain.

As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door and a muffled, "You okay?"

"Fine," Shane called back through clenched teeth, his voice echoing on the tiles.

Knight either didn't believe him or the pain was obvious in his voice because he opened the door anyway. When he caught a glimpse of the white dressing still covering the wound he paled a little but didn't comment. Shane didn't really blame him, he didn't particularly want to consider the mechanics too much either.

"You okay?" Knight repeated.

This time, Schofield couldn't very well lie. With his shirt off, he could quite clearly see he must have overdone himself today and pulled some of the stiches a little too far. Dots of rust coloured dried blood had soaked through the dressing.

"Not really, no," he replied as he allowed Knight to steer him down to sit on the lip of the bath. Knight was careful he as he peeled the bandage off but it still tugged at Schofield's tender skin and he winced a little.

"Sorry," Knight said. His hands were inexplicable gently, pressing a fresh dressing against his skin, smoothing the edges in soft strokes. Knight didn't mention that he'd had to pop open the top button of Schofield's jeans to access the dressing, so neither did Shane. It was harder to ignore the tentative and oh so careful touch.

"Thanks," Shane muttered, the pain killers starting to kick in and his legs feeling less like they were going to fall out from underneath him.

He was expecting a witty retort from Knight but what he got instead was a carefully considered look before Aloysius asked quietly, "Can I stay?"

Schofield was glad the drugs weren't strong enough to affect his brain to mouth filter because his brain was screaming, 'tonight or forever?' whilst his mouth stayed obediently shut. Instead, he just nodded and offered a weary smile.

Standing up, he went to the small linen closet and pulled a couple of extra blankets and a pillow out and handed them to Knight wordlessly.

"When was the last time you slept?" Knight asked, appearing concerned.

"This morning," Shane shot back and Knight snorted.

"Doesn't count," he retorted. "I made you and it was only a few hours. When did you last sleep properly?"

Shane shrugged.  
"Dunno."

"Too long then, go to bed," Knight ordered. "I'll take the night feeds."

Shane was barely awake enough to express his gratitude but the way Knight smiled at him – his mouth barely moved except at the edges, but his eyes crinkled through the yellow tinted lenses – told him he understood just fine. Knight went to crash on the couch and Shane stumbled towards his bedroom.

As he went past the bathroom, he reminded himself to set out an extra towel for Knight in the morning.


	9. Part 1: Chapter 9

**A/N:** If you're familiar with my work, you'll know all my stories have a sound track. So I thought I'd share the songs that helped inspire this story.

Little Wonders by Rob Thomas – where the title came from

I knew I loved you (before I met you) by Savage Garden – one of my mum's favourite songs and she said it always makes her think about her kids.

The Reason by Hoobastank

With Arms Wide Open by Creed (or the boyce avenue cover)

I know they're mostly all technically romantic love songs but I reckon they'd totally fit that unbreakable bond of love between a parent and their child.

Also, I don't know if marines are entitled to normal sorts of work related leave like sick leave or parental leave but I figured they should… correct me if I'm wrong. And I'm entirely making up the geography of the base.

Chapter 9

Shane was woken the next morning by crying and the realisation that he probably wasn't going to need to set an alarm for the next few years. The clock beside his bed flashed 5:30 at him in little red figures. Wiping sleep out of his eyes, he dragged himself out of bed and down the hall to Beth's room.

"Morning," he said to her, stifling a yawn. "Did you keep your dad up all night?"

At some point he was going to have to consider the issue of name confusion with two dads but he figured he wouldn't have to deal with that until she was old enough to talk, at which point it was her problem. She could call either of them whatever the hell she wanted. It didn't bother him as long as it meant all three of them were still there to have that problem.

He leant casually up against the rails of the cot and looked down at her. From behind watery blue eyes, she returned his gaze steadily and the cries quietened down. She opened her little mouth as wide as she could, showing off empty gums, whilst her brows scrunched up demandingly.

"Hungry?" Shane asked, arching his own eyebrows and reaching down to tickle her chin. When she gurgled happily, seemingly in response, he added, "Me too."

He stumbled off in the direction of the kitchen to get some milk for Beth and a coffee for himself, fully expecting to find a semi-conscious bounty hunter asleep on his couch. What he found instead, was a note, scrawled in Knight's slanting handwriting saying he'd gone out and not to worry.

Who the hell went out at five o'clock in the morning after being stuck on night feeds with a newborn?

Pre-coffee however, was never a good time to try and ponder the ridiculous complexities of Aloysius Knight and besides, the baby was still hungry and her cries were picking up again.

"Alright, I'm back," Shane announced over the noise, shaking the bottle as he pulled the curtains above the crib open and the room was suddenly bathed in the warm red-golden glow of sunrise. He picked the still crying baby up and settled them both into the old armchair under the window. Beth continued to wriggle in his arms for a while until he offered up the bottle and she went miraculously still, latching on to the bottle and staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

Shane returned her stare, occasionally pulling silly faces at her whilst she polished off her breakfast but as soon as the bottle had been drained of its last drop, he shifted her from lying against the crook of his elbow to upright and against his shoulder in an effort to ward off any more spectacular vomits. He rubbed small circles on her back soothingly as she made the funny breathy sounds that meant she needed to burp, in his ear.

"You've gotta eat more slowly," he said to her teasingly when she finally worked the gas out, before letting his head fall back against the back of the chair and shutting his eyes. Basking in the light of the early morning sun with Beth's small fingers tangling in the short hair behind his ear, it was hard not to feel too content. Even sore, tired, still without any caffeine intake and the mysterious absence of the other person supposed to be helping him look after the baby, this sort of morning was quietly glorious.

He wasn't overly concerned by Knight's disappearance, the man had always turned up out of the blue and left again as he pleased. Even if Knight hadn't specifically said he intended to come back, the clues were everywhere. Sitting in his grandfather's old rocking chair with the handmade baby blanket Knight had rescued from his own place draped over the side, it was very hard indeed to be worried.

They just sat together for a little while, soaking in the sun, until a sharp and rather awful smell filled the room.

Shane pretty damn sure it wasn't him and hurriedly went to pop Beth upon the changing table. There was a certain method to this – diaper off, wipe bum, grimace, dispose of used wipe, powder on, diaper back on as quick as possible – and as long as he followed that, it wasn't too difficult even if Beth did prefer kicking her legs in all directions as soon as she was free of the diaper.

"God, you really are disgusting sometimes," he said to her and she just kicked her legs harder, smiling a gummy smile.

Once he'd got her cleaned up, Schofield decided to dispense with the last step and seeing as he already had her butt naked, organised a quick bath then and there. He didn't have a proper baby bath but the sink in the bathroom was suitably large. Or at least, it was larger than the baby. So he took a happily naked Beth over to the bathroom and quickly wrapped her up in a towel before she got cold whilst he filled the sink with warm water. Once the sink was mostly full, he let her sink in gently, making sure to keep a firm grip on her the whole time. Only, he hadn't accounted for the Archimedes principle and the sink was quite full before he'd put her in. Once her weight was taking up space, the sink promptly overflowed and Beth, finding this hilarious, splashed her arms and legs about to make it continue. The water cascaded over the side of the sink and straight onto Schofield's bare feet. He yelped a little but kept a hold of her, surprise quickly turning to amusement.

"Two can play that game," he chuckled, scooping a handful of water and running it through her hair and trickling down her face. One handed, he rifled through the baby wash he was sure was in there somewhere and nearly knocked it over. Gently, he ran it through her small tuft of black hair until there were more bubbles than hair. He was going to just rinse it off again when an irrational desire to be silly hit him and instead, he blew hard and laughed as her face lit up, tiny hands trying to catch the bubbles now going everywhere. He could've sworn she squealed with delight and it was only when they were both suitably covered with bubbles that he rinsed her off and lifted her out of the water, returning her to the towel and held her tight against his chest.

All wrapped up, he deposited her on the change table and towelled her off, reaching down with the other hand to grab a new diaper and an outfit from the piles resting neatly under the change table. Given the amount of sunlight streaming in through the open window, he wrestled her into a loose white cotton smock-type thing prettily embroidered at the top and a pair of soft pink leggings just in case it got colder later.

Then, with wonderful weather and the baby clean and even dressed nicely, Knight's escape attempt made much more sense. Why stay inside when it was so much nicer outside?

Popping Beth back in the crib temporarily – he wasn't going to leave her on the change table, she could fall off and he sure as hell wasn't going to let her play on the floor without supervision. There was no telling what Aloysius' Knight's child could get up to even if she was only a few days old and couldn't even hold her head up – Shane rushed through his own shower and pulled on the loosest pair of jeans he owned so they didn't rub against the wound too much and an old faded band t-shirt. Once he was done, he found the new stroller and began filling the handy pocket in the back with the things he assumed they would need to leave the safety of the house.

Diaper.  
Actually, make that diapers.

And their associated requirements, baby wipes and powder.

A blanket to change her on in the event of her needing changing. (Probability: fairly high)

Spare set of clothes, just in case.

Bottle.  
Maybe two.

And an impossibly tiny jacket, in case the weather got suddenly cold.

With the various items assembled, he realised the only thing he'd forgotten was the baby.

"Feel like going out?" He asked her as he lifted her out of the crib again. Shane settled her in the pram, pulling her little limbs through the straps and buckling her in securely. Navigating out the door and into the not overly spacious elevator wasn't particularly easy with the bulky pram but once they were outdoors on the pavement, it was all worth it. There wasn't much to see by Shane's standards, the odd tree and the tall, mostly dirty, buildings surrounding but Beth's eyes flickered rapidly, trying to track all the unfamiliar objects. It must have been a little overwhelming for her because she soon turned her eyes back to him.

He smiled at her as he took them down the familiar paths to the Potomac River. It wasn't the quickest way to walk to the marine base but it was the most pleasant and besides, they had all the time they wanted.

Schofield had decided to take her to the base for a couple of reasons. Mostly, he figured he could take her anywhere really and she wouldn't mind. Secondly, he had to organise some sort of official leave for at least the short term whilst he and Knight worked out the logistics of this raising a child thing.  
And maybe a small part of him wanted to show her off to his friends and colleagues.

He wasn't surprised to see that there were lots of mothers and fathers with children of various ages feeding ducks or playing ball games or just walking like him. It was an odd feeling to be doing something so simple. After all, he fought so others could enjoy this sort of easy mundane life but he rarely got any of it for himself.

Mundane was pretty good, he decided.

In the end, they took the better part of the morning to wander along the banks of the Potomac before finally crossing it and making for the Marine headquarters in D.C.

Beth fell asleep as they were crossing the grounds to the personnel offices.

Shane had a week's worth of sick leave saved up which he took as a temporary measure until he could figure out what Knight's involvement in this situation would be.

It only took a couple of signatures to at least get himself a week's breathing space. Another quick question at the office desk told him his unit were operating out of the furthest training field. It was actually Shane's favourite field, tucked away in a far corner of the base and surrounded by trees and greenery.

The base was expansive and it took nearly twenty minutes to walk from the personnel offices in the centre to the training grounds in the top north corner, where Schofield found his unit covered in mud and crawling their way through a tough obstacle course. In his absence, Mother as team chief was acting commander and Shane could see her name written all over this particular course.

Of course, with a quick glance over the terrain, he knew he would've set it up the same.  
His team was more than capable of it but they needed to be reminded of that.

He parked the pram under the shade of an old oak tree and leant casually against the trunk, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Pick it up," he called out loudly in his best officer voice and was rewarded when the entire unit stopped in their tracks, mid-way up walls or under barbed wire traps and looked at him. At their looks of surprise, he gave them a wry smirk and added, "Did I say you could stop?"

One by one, the unit scrambled through the course and came over to him.

Astro was first, all breathlessness and wide eyed wonder at the sleeping baby. Skip was next and having already seen Beth before, tried to act cool but instead ended up peering over the stroller and exclaiming in what was almost a squeal, "Ooh, she's so much bigger."

Rebound had snuck up behind her and looked like he was torn between curiosity and fear. Whereas Sanchez had no such concerns and offered only a disdainful glance down at the infant.

Mother barely looked at the baby, instead slapping Schofield on the back and saying heartily, "Good to have you back."

Book II hung around the edges, quiet as always but offered him a steady, reassuring smile that was rare.

Bigfoot, whose large stature was somewhat of a disadvantage on the tight obstacle course was last. Big but always gentle, Shane could imagine that he was a great father to his own children, whose old cot now housed Beth. He walked straight up to the stroller and reached down to stroke the soft skin of her chubby legs. Beth, having noticed the commotion centred around her was never going to stay asleep and was staring back up at Bigfoot with suddenly alert blue eyes, no hint of drowsiness. For his part, Bigfoot mumbled baby nonsense back at her, his ease helping to relax the other marines.

Astro was the first to regain his voice. Out of nowhere, he asked boldly, "Can I hold her?"

Shane nodded but Astro made no move to pick up the baby, so Shane reached down and picked her up himself and indicating that Astro should hold his arms out, settled her carefully in his grip.

"Support her head," Shane said kindly, placing her head carefully so it rested in the crook of his elbow, his other hand coming up to support her under her bottom.

She stirred a little but obviously decided she didn't mind this stranger with the shiny hair that glittered in the sunlight because she fixed her gaze on him with the same look of wonder that he fixed on her. Rebound still hung around his shoulders with an intense look of curiosity but when Astro turned to him and motioned as though handing the baby over, asking if Rebound would like to hold her, he shook his head firmly.

Schofield watched the exchange and said quietly, "You won't hurt her."

He nodded again encouragingly and Rebound held out his arms, letting Astro transfer the baby over. The moment he did so however, she decided she was tired of the charade and screwed up her face, beginning to cry loudly. Shane wasn't sure which one of them looked more startled, the red faced baby or Rebound, who couldn't work out what he'd done wrong.

"It's okay," Shane said, darting forward to pluck Beth back out of his arms, "She's probably just hungry."

Rebound looked relieved when his arms were empty again. He looked even more relieved when the baby didn't stop crying for Schofield, proof that it wasn't just him.

Over the noise of the cries, Shane said, "You guys have time for lunch?"

"Dunno," Mother replied, "better ask the boss."

Shane laughing, said, "The boss says you can stop for lunch."

This far out on the fringes of the base, there was no way they were going to walk all the way back to the mess for what would undoubtedly be a mediocre meal anyway. Instead, Mother tore open the large esky they'd brought out with them – Marines, always prepared – and tossed a couple of pre-packed sandwiches they'd pinched from the mess that morning to each person.

Shane had of course, thought to pack a bottle for Beth but not anything for himself. So when Mother tossed him a sandwich as well, he smiled gratefully.

She just shrugged, "I might've over supplied."

Schofield laughed, she had packed enough sandwiches to feed an army, not a unit.

As a team, they settled themselves on the ground for an impromptu picnic and tucked into the sandwiches with the enthusiasm that only hungry marines have. Although Schofield's stomach was bitterly complaining his inadequate intake of a single cup of coffee, he set the sandwiches down on the ground and instead reached for the bottle tucked into the back of the stroller, feeding Beth first. He tried to slow her down, pulling the bottle away periodically, forcing her to breathe between swallows but she still guzzled it down and burped quietly in his arms.

Which was when he hit a problem.

Schofield needed a hand to eat but Beth was currently occupying both. He could've spread out the blanket he'd brought and pop her on the ground but he was fairly sure she would throw up again and soon; and then he'd have to wash the blanket as well. He could put her back in the pram but cleaning the pram would be worse than washing the blanket.

It was Mother who rescued him, plucking her out of his arms and settling her against her own larger ones.  
"Eat," she ordered him. "You're looking too skinny."

"You sound like my grandma," Shane retorted with a smirk but he knew she was right. He wasn't actively trying to lose any weight but since Beth was born, he had noticed that he'd dropped a few pounds. Long nights and looking after the baby at the expense of himself probably weren't helping. He'd be no use to her at all if he didn't look after himself as well and rebuilding sufficient muscle mass for a marine was going to be difficult enough already. "But thanks."

"And I'd hold her upright if I were you," he added, looking pointedly at Mother.

Mother quickly shifted the baby to against her shoulder.  
"She's a spewer?" She asked.

Schofield just nodded and tossed her a small towel to put over her shoulder whilst he tucked into the sandwiches.

Sure enough, Beth vomited – though nowhere near as impressively as before – and the marines uttered various exclamations of disgust, except for Mother who just chuckled and mopped it up swiftly with the towel.

"Alright," she said loudly as she cleaned up, "lunch break's over. Get back to work."

Perhaps the baby spew had put the other young marines off the remainder of the sandwiches – which Rebound and Astro in particular had been eyeing off – but they scrambled back to the course without complaint.

Shane took the baby back from Mother with a muttered apology but she wasn't having any of it.

"It's just a bit of baby spew," she said, "it's not like my shirt was clean to begin with."

And Shane had to agree with her, she and the rest of the marines were covered in mud from head to toe. Given the lack of clouds in the ridiculously blue sky, Shane guessed she must have hosed down sections of the course beforehand to make it more difficult.

"Hey," he called out before she jogged back to the course, "Will you be her godmother?"

Mother paused long enough to give him a wicked smile and a quick kiss to the forehead.  
"I thought you'd never ask."


	10. Part 1: Chapter 10

**A/N: **I know I've said this a lot but I really am sorry about the slow turnout with these chapters. This story just doesn't seem to be forthcoming easily. On the other hand, these chapters are nearly twice as long as my other stories, which could be contributing to the time it takes to write them as well. Anyway, point was, thanks for your patience and loyalty – especially to everyone who reviews/favourites/alerts. This chapter contains a present of the lemon variety. (So the rating has gone up to reflect that)

Chapter 10

By the time Schofield made his way back to the small apartment with pram in tow, he'd had to stop once to change Beth's diaper and once to wrestle her tiny arms into the jacket, the sun had set and the air was rapidly getting cold. Shane was relieved they made it home before evening really set.  
He was also relieved to find Aloysius Knight making a mess in his kitchen.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting, "What are you doing?"

Schofield wasn't about to just come out and ask Knight where he'd been all day. Knight could be oddly touchy about these things. If he chose to volunteer the information then Shane would gladly accept it but he wasn't going to push for it.

"Cooking," Knight replied.

"You can cook?" Shane asked dubiously.

Knight looked like he had a witty retort up his sleeve but just then the phone rang so he settled instead for a shrug as Shane reached to answer it.

It was his nana, just checking up on how things were going. Shane listened absentmindedly to his nana's chatter, leaning relaxed up against the wall to watch as Knight wandered over to the pram still containing Beth and unbuckled her. He watched the way Knight pulled faces at her and lifted her high above his head, making plane noises as he carried her off to her room. Before he disappeared into the hallway though, he turned back quickly to face Schofield and said, "keep stirring that, will you."

Shane chuckled to himself and dutifully reported the day's events as he stirred the pot full of what smelt like cheese sauce.

Shane was just saying good bye when Knight came back, wiping his hands on the pair of faded black jeans he was wearing.  
"Just settled her," he said, "she looks absolutely beat, fell asleep immediately."

"Yeah, we had a busy day," Shane replied as Knight nudged him out of the way and resumed stirring. "What did you get up to?"

Knight shrugged by way of reply and Schofield didn't press the matter.

"I managed to sort out a week's worth of leave to hold us over until we can sort out something more permanent," Shane continued slightly tentatively. "Are you planning on sticking around."

Knight turned to look at him over his shoulder, without stopping stirring, and shot him a brilliant smile.  
"I'm cooking you dinner, aren't I?"

Schofield snuffed a laugh as Knight directed him to grab something out of the oven. A something that turned out to be a large dish of pasta bake which Knight poured a generous helping of the cheese sauce over before putting it back in the oven for a couple of minutes until the whole thing turned a perfect, golden brown.

Shane had to admit; it looked and smelt like perfection.

They ate in silence for a while, shovelling down mouthfuls of creamy pasta but it was comfortable silence. Eventually, however, the silence turned awkward, heavy with a question that had been burning Schofield's tongue for a while now. Knight looked up from his bowl and caught Schofield's eye whilst Shane bit down on his lower lip.

"Have you told Rufus yet?" Shane asked quietly.

A lot hung on the answer despite the seemingly simple question. Rufus kept Knight anchored, stopped him – or tried to - from doing the really stupid things and made sure he got back alive when he went and did them anyway. If Knight told Rufus, it meant he was serious. It meant he was staying.

Knight dropped his gaze almost immediately.  
"Not yet," he replied, almost as softly as Schofield.

It was a marker of the situation that they both spoke with such hesitancy in little more than whispers, barely making eye contact. It was as though they feared being made vulnerable before the other and in doing so, they revealed just how vulnerable they really were. The outside world might have seen heroes and villains, men that could've taken the world by storm on a whim but here, in Shane's little apartment, they couldn't fool each other.

Shane never quite knew where he stood with Knight. Sure Knight had taken him to his old place, showed him the hidden boxes containing his past and let him in just that little bit. Sure they had had fun, found each other's company as easy as it ever was but he had no proof whatsoever that Knight wanted anything more from him than the shared experience of parenthood, if he even wanted that at all.

Shane never knew where he stood with Knight but that was the way it always had been.

The first time he'd turned up on Schofield's doorstep, sheepish to have woken him up in the middle of the night, Shane just shrugged and let him in, setting up blankets and pillows on the couch.

The second time, he was shaking and his shirt was stained with someone else's blood. Shane didn't argue when Knight followed him back to his bedroom. He had efficiently divested Knight of most of his clothes and tugged him into the bed with him; let his own warmth and strength bleed into Knight until he stopped shaking. If anyone understood that you couldn't be a hero all the time, it was Schofield.

And if he had woken up the next morning with Knight's face tucked against the hard lines of his chest and Knight's erection pressing into his hip, it didn't much bother him. The only thing that did surprise him when Knight took the arm he had managed to sling across Shane's body at some point in the night and slid it down his body, dipping under the loose waistband of his pyjamas, was how quickly he himself went from half-mast to bucking into Knights firm grip. They had both spilled too soon. It was brisk and perfunctory, sticky and sweaty and absolutely nothing more than an easy release.

One which Knight quite clearly needed and if Shane was honest with himself, after many lonely nights since Libby had died, he needed too.

After that, Knight never went back to the couch.

And as long as the name on his lips didn't match the hand on his dick, Shane reasoned, it was fine.

A set of unspoken rules were set up pretty quickly. Hands and mouths were great in combination with dicks but never two hands clasped in each other's or two mouths pressed together. And they never talked about it in the morning unless it was to argue about who had to do the washing.

It had been fine.  
Great actually.  
It was exactly what they both needed.

Until one bottle of bourbon made them realise it wasn't.

They were both drunker than they cared to admit and splayed out across the double bed, barely big enough for both of them. The alcohol had made Knight playful so he had Shane on his back, divested of his clothes and common sense and was teasing him. His tongue tracing little lines around the curve of Schofield's hipbone, inside the crook of his knee and alongside the pale skin of his inner thigh, enough to reduce the Scarecrow to a panting, needy mess but nowhere near enough to do anything about it. Shane's hand was tangled in the short hair at the back of Knight's neck, tugging enough to cause a little pain, enough to express his displeasure. He licked another long stripe up Schofield's thigh, felt the muscles beneath him shake with need and the fingers in his hair twist sharply but most of all, he heard the muffled groan Shane let escape.  
God he loved the sounds he could coax out of Schofield, normally so reserved and in control.

He wanted to reward those sounds.

Without warning, he covered Shane's length with his lips until he reached soft skin and coarse dark curls at the base before bobbing back up slowly, trailing his tongue firmly along the underside the entire way. As he did so, Knight slipped one tentative finger down the sensitive skin behind his balls, tracing, barely touching, teasing lower until he reached the line where thigh bled into perfectly formed ass and the whole way, Schofield shivered.

Knight kept his mouth where it was, sucking hard at the head of Schofield's cock, whilst his fingers explored his ass. One careful finger dipped into the line between his cheeks to graze at his entrance with dry insistent pressure and Shane gasped beneath him.

"Shit, oh - " he managed in a strangled voice, using the hand still clutching Knight's hair to yank back sharply, forcing him upwards, whilst he untangled the other from the sheets and reached down to grab his own cock but not stroking. Rather, he clenched down hard at the base of it, the pressure enough to calm the quaking in his thighs.

Knight splayed one hand across the flat plane of Schofield's stomach and watched with wide eyes as he saw and felt the way Shane tried to slow his racing breath, his skin flushed and mouth still mumbling incoherent and involuntary sounds.  
Christ, he'd practically come from that alone.

"Shit, you're sensitive," Knight said with a wicked grin, not moving his hand away, the heady fire in his eyes lit by something other than the alcohol.

"I'll be right back," he said, pressing a swift kiss to the inside of Schofield's hip, "Do not touch yourself, that's an order."

And with that he had flung himself off the bed and strode off as naked as the day he was born. Shane used the time to collect himself and steady his ragged breathing, which was hard with the memory of Knight's fingertips still tingling on his skin. He felt electrified and like he was spinning out of control into something dangerous.  
He definitely did not use it to contemplate the lines he thought they might have been about to cross.

Knight came back only a minute or two later but it felt like much longer, the cool air was sharp against his hot skin and especially on his cock, still wet with Knight's saliva.

Then Knight was back, casually tossing a small dark bottle off to the side, his fingers already slick with something wet and glistening and when he returned them to Schofield's body, Shane couldn't help but yelp at the cold, wet sensation, such a shock against the heat of his own burning body and the trapped heat coiling in the small space between himself and Knight.

"The fuck is that?" He asked, glad to just be comprehensible.

"Gun oil," Knight practically purred, his fingertips barely stroking Schofield, slicked like that it would need so little pressure, just a little push. "It was that or butter."

Shane let his head fall back hard against the bedframe with a dull thump and brought his arms up to cover his face in an attempt to muffle the noises rising involuntarily from his throat. If he hadn't been able to see Knight out of the corner of his eye, he would have thought Knight was the orchestrator of the noises but Knight's mouth was firmly shut, was smirking at him actually as his fingers continued to circle him intimately. His voice didn't sound like his own. It was rough and low, like gravel in his throat.

"You done this before?" Shane managed to ask, voice catching in his throat, "With another guy, I mean."

"Nah," Knight replied, pushing that little bit harder and using his other hand to pin Schofield's hip down into the mattress, "but I tried it on myself once."

He pushed a little harder again but found he was met with resistance, Schofield's body tense and on edge beneath him.

"Just relax," he said, taking his other hand off Shane's hip and brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes, surprisingly gentle. "This'll feel good, I promise."

For Shane, the image of Knight riding his own fingers went straight to his belly like a flame and in that instant, his body relaxed and Knight surged forward, easily slipping one slick finger inside of him.

It doesn't feel good.  
It feels like an intrusion. The single finger stretches and burns and he doesn't know how he could possibly take any more but when Knight crooked that finger inside of him, grazing something deep inside, then he understood. Schofield's back arched off the bed even as Knight kept a hold of his hip to steady him and his body relaxed enough for Knight to worm another finger inside him. It still felt like an intrusion but a welcome one as he thrust backwards, seeking more friction and a deeper sensation of being filled. The pleasure made so much sweeter by the burn, the stretch, the little tang of pain.

"There?" Knight asked, jamming his fingers repeatedly against that spot, hearing Schofield's breath hitch in time with the rhythm of his strokes. The unintelligible string of moans and muttered curses falling from Shane's lips were answer enough.

Whilst he scissored his fingers, stroking and stretching Shane not too gently, he turned his mouth to better use, leaving little nips and bruises up Schofield's body. He'd already left some pretty impressive half-moon scratches along the curve of Shane's hip where he'd dug his fingernails in so he gave it a matching bite mark before moving up his body, tracing the plane of muscles with his tongue. Reaching the collarbone, he sucked hard against skin, feeling blood vessels break and an impressive bruise rise to the surface. The angle drove his fingers in harder and beneath him, Schofield let out a surprised noise.

"Don't," he gasped out, "stop."

Knight's fingers stilled immediately and he looked up from the latest bruise to meet Schofield's eyes, pupils blown so wide they were practically black.  
"One sentence or two?" He asked sharply.

"Two. In. Now." Shane replied, words rough. "Not going to last."

"Pretty sure you need more prep," Knight replied but he had already slipped his fingers out swiftly and slicked his cock liberally with the gun oil.

Schofield shook his head firmly.  
"Now or not at all."

Knight didn't need any more invitation that that, lining himself up between Shane's spread legs, he pushed in in one smooth, long stroke, his own legs trembling all the way until he was nestled in the crook of Shane's hip. His cock brushed against Knight's stomach, leaving glistening little streaks of pearly fluid.  
"Shit, you're tight," Knight said through gritted teeth.

Beneath him, Shane could only manage, "fuck," drawn out and desperate.

Knight waited, and waited, until Shane pushed back at him with an impatient roll of his hips. Then he began driving forward in earnest, loosing himself in the feel of Schofield's body clenched tight around him, drinking in the sight of him and the sounds that fell from his lips. He was right about one thing though, Schofield is sensitive and he drove forward into him with abandon until they're both breathless and gasping more than their level of fitness should allow.

It was harsh and hurried, driven by a single purpose as Knight dragged himself forward and slid his hands under Schofield's thighs. Feeling every restless twitch of muscle both inside and out, Knight supported and lifted him just a little so he could get a better angle. He knew he had it when Shane let out a strangled cry.

He drove in relentlessly until Schofield was an incoherent, sweaty mess beneath him, pushing back and writhing, aching for release. It was all Knight could do to hold on until Shane came hard against his chest without a single touch to his cock, before giving himself over entirely to the wet heat, barely holding himself up as he buried himself deep in Schofield and came hard, grinding their hips together.

It was only then that he let himself drop a sloppy kiss against Shane's open and very surprised mouth, before pulling out and rolling over. Shane had been happy to follow him to sleep before he could consider how empty and cold he suddenly felt, how he bemoaned the loss of contact. He fell asleep before he could realise he had come with Knight's name on his tongue.

With hindsight, Shane now knew that Beth must have been conceived that first time because afterwards, Knight had left and hadn't returned for over three weeks.  
Thirty three and a half weeks later, Beth was born.

They cleared up the dinner plates quickly enough and Shane offered to do the night feeds since Knight had handled them the night before. Knight nodded his thanks and they both stumbled off in different directions, Knight heading for the couch and Schofield for his bed.

When he entered his bedroom, he noticed immediately that something was off. The bottom drawer in his mostly empty chest of drawers was slightly open at one end. Not large enough to be a possible threat, it had been left that way deliberately. Just enough that he would notice it.

Opening the drawer, he discovered where Knight had gone that day.  
He had evidently gone back to whichever safehouse he was currently utilising because his clothing was folded, neat and tidy, in the bottom of the empty drawer.  
Knight, it seemed, wasn't going anywhere just yet.

That thought left Shane smiling to himself as he fell asleep.


	11. Part 1: Chapter 11

**A/N: **I'm pretty sure my parents are going to freak out if they find me googling baby milestones in the first month of life. I'm not sure which one is worse; them thinking I'm pregnant or them knowing I'm writing this… Anyway, I did my research. Babies have about four major reflexes during their first month.

Sucking and swallowing – especially at the same time to let them eat.

They can be startled and tend to fling their limbs around involuntarily when surprised.

They can grasp things that are already in their hands, like a finger, but not actually reach out to grab something as they don't have control over their limbs.

This one is particularly cool, even though they can't walk, if you hold a newborn upright and place its feet on a flat surface, they will make stepping motions. Just don't let them go…

There isn't much a newborn can do but by the end of the first month, they should learn to hold their head up when placed on their stomach, focus on objects and faces, respond to a noise and clench their fists but that's about it. At this stage, Beth is one week old. I'm going to try and move the story along a bit from here because otherwise this is going to be a really, _really, _long story and I just don't have the patience for that. I'm planning that this story will wrap up sometime around Beth's first birthday and if we go at this rate – 11 chapters for each week of life – we're looking at a 572 chapter story. I'm anticipating it'll actually be around 40-50 chapters, which will still be the longest story I've ever written so please bear with me! :p

Chapter 11

Over the following days, Aloysius Knight continued to hang around and Shane Schofield learnt that whoever coined the expression 'slept like a baby,' had clearly never had one. Indeed, earlier that night – or morning, he supposed – Shane had been awoken by the sound of Beth's cries and shaking himself fully awake, had stumbled down the corridor to find Knight looking, for want of a better word, frazzled witless. The baby was red-faced and squirming in his grip, Knight himself had deep bags under his eyes and was pacing the room in an aimless way.

"How long have you been up," Shane asked blearily, hanging around the doorway. He didn't flick on the light because he didn't want to disturb Beth although that seemed a fairly pointless effort anyway.

Knight, it appeared, didn't even have the energy to jump in the darkened room.  
"Three hours," he replied, "give or take."

Aloysius simply didn't know what to do anymore. His feet ached from treading the same repetitive patterns. It didn't stop her crying but it seemed to have quietened her enough to let Shane sleep. His head throbbed from the incessant screaming until he couldn't think straight anymore and his arms had stiffened into shape around her.  
Five pounds wasn't much.  
Until you had to hold five pounds of flailing dead weight for three straight hours in the same position.

So needless to say, Knight was nothing but relieved when Shane easily lifted the burden out of his arms and rested her against his own shoulder instead. Emptied of the now familiar weight, Knight's arms rose involuntarily, like an arm removed from a heavy plaster will. Schofield, seeing the sight over the top of Beth's head as he rubbed small circles in her back, cradling her head and soft hair in his other hand, snuffed a small laugh at Knight's expense.

The baby had already started to quieten, her cries turning into soft snuffles, in his arms.

Knight just shook his head and stalked out of the room.

Schofield let him go, holding the baby close a moment longer and pressing a kiss against her warm, downy hair.  
"Think you could cut him some slack?" He said to her chidingly, "He's trying."

Having woken both her parents up, Beth was evidently satisfied with the nights work and was quite ready for a nap. Despite her best efforts, her blue eyes were shut against Schofield's shoulder. Her cries turned into deep, easy breaths as he lay her back down in the cot, already asleep.

When he entered the kitchen, he found Knight standing by the coffee machine with one cup clutched in his hands and another behind him on the counter, a steady drip of coffee slowly filling it up. If Shane didn't perfectly understand the other man's frustration and bone-deep exhaustion, he might have described his expression as sulking.

"Three hours," Knight moaned, not looking up from the coffee cup, "I tried everything I could think of but she wouldn't stop."

Shane picked up the second mug and held it close to him, savouring it's warmth in the early morning cold of the kitchen. He spun his butt around so he was leaning against the counter next to Knight but didn't say anything, just sipped at the steaming coffee.

"I'm not cut out for this Dad shit," Aloysius continued, rubbing tired eyes under yellow lenses.

There were plenty of things Shane could've replied to that but most of them were platitudes that he knew Knight would never take to heart. He was silent for a long moment.

"I said almost exactly the same thing," he eventually settled on. "I was going to give her up cause I thought somebody else could do a better job than I could raising her but Mother made me realise that we don't have to perfect, we're her parents and that's all she wants from us."

"We're trying," he added, bumping his shoulder against Knights gently, careful not to spill the coffee, "that's got to count for something."

"She still likes you better than me," Knight said petulantly and this time, the sulk was clear.

Shane laughed at him.  
"Well she did have seven or so months to get used to me," he replied. "Just give her some time, she'll love you."

An expression quite like wonder passed across Knights face, replacing the sulk almost instantly.  
"It must have been incredible," he said softly.

Shane had to admit, "I didn't know. At least, not right up until she was born."

Then it was Knight's turn to laugh at him but not unkindly.  
"No clue?" He asked.

"No clue," Shane repeated, bowing his head and snuffing a laugh at his own expense too. "It certainly wasn't the first conclusion I would have jumped to anyway."

Knight shrugged, took another mouthful of coffee and paused, searching for the right words to phrase what he wanted to say. He always had a scathing insult at the ready and a witty comeback in mind. He had words for combat and orders, for comfort and for charm but when it came down to it, he didn't really have any words to express the things that weighed on his mind and were close to his heart. Put frankly, he was uncomfortable talking to anyone about anything he was feeling ever.

ever.

"When Mother called me and said you were in trouble," he said eventually, "I was frightened at first. For you. Then I was surprised -"

" - makes two of us - " Shane interrupted.

" – and then I was very happy," he finished lamely. This was exactly why he didn't say this sort of stuff – because there really weren't words to express it in all its fullness.

"It all seems so surreal," Knight said, "I didn't really believe it myself until I saw her for the first time. At which point I was so damn shocked I couldn't do anything other than run away."

Schofield laughed at him, again, recalling the memory of him doing exactly that. It hadn't been funny at the time but the idea of the famous Black Knight, scared of a little baby was pretty funny now.

"Actually, I haven't called Rufus yet 'cause I can't work out what I'm going to tell him that he might actually believe. I'm a little afraid that he'll think that it's some elaborate secret code and launch a rescue mission," he continued. "That and the fact that I haven't a clue where he is. I told him to go to ground when I got Mother's message, just in case it turned out to be hot water. But I guess I'll have to get around to it sometime soon if he's going to make it for the baptism."

"Baptism?" Shane repeated.

"If it's okay with you," Knight replied immediately, looking a little abashed. It was an odd look on him. "I was brought up Catholic and even though I don't think I get to believe in God after all the things I've done, if there is a big guy upstairs, I want him swinging for her."

Despite his nonchalance, it was clear to Shane that this was a big deal for Knight. It wasn't a big deal for him personally but he had to concede that Knight had a point; he too wanted to stack the odds in his daughter's favour.  
With the parents she had, she was probably going to need it.

Besides, his grandparents were staunch Christians and his nana would undoubtedly be ecstatic at the opportunity to sew a christening gown.

"Of course," Shane replied, "if it's important to you. My Nan will be thrilled."

Just then, the baby's cries started up again, faint but insistent. The half hour nap it seemed was just enough to refresh her for another day of exhausting her fathers.

"I'll get her if you start making breakfast," Shane said, putting the coffee back down on the bench.

"Deal," Knight replied, already rooting through the sparse fridge.

And if on his way past, Schofield had tapped Knight playfully on the arse, it really wasn't his fault.  
Knight shouldn't have been sticking it out like that.

And if Knight had let out a sort of surprised yelp, he would categorically deny it. He looked up from the butter and found Shane's eyes before he disappeared around the corner, giving him as intimidating a frown he could muster though the effect might have been spoiled by the small smile playing at his lips. In return, Shane raised both eyebrows teasingly and smirked at him, eyes twinkling, and went to get the baby.

Knight just shook his head and returned to the search for something edible.

By the time Shane had got Beth up, changed and dressed, Knight had found some eggs that still looked fresh and scrambled them to go with the couple of bits of bread he had thrown in the toaster. He had to scrape a little bit of mould off one of the slices. Mentally, he marked which slice that was and made sure to put that on Schofield's plate - sometimes Knight wondered how Schofield had got along before he turned up given that the man's idea of cooking was memorising the numbers of every nearby take-out joint.

Knight on the other hand, had spent a fairly significant amount of his early military career on KP duty for insubordination.  
It wasn't that bad a way to learn how to cook really.

"Smells good," Shane said as he ambled back in with Beth held up against his shoulder, wide awake and ready to go. "I think I see how this is going to work out now. I'll go back to being a marine and you can stay home and do all the cooking and cleaning."

Knight glared at him over the plate of scrambled eggs on toast he passed him.

"I won't be doing much cooking if we don't do some shopping first," he replied. "The fridge is empty and there's nothing in the cupboards other than some mi-goreng that looks like it went out of date when you were in college."

Shane shrugged.  
"We'll shop then."

"And what are you planning on doing with the baby?" Knight said in a condescending tone.

"We'll take her with us," Schofield shot back, mimicking Knight's tone of voice. "She can't stay in the house all the time and besides, it might tire her out."

It hadn't taken long for Shane to realise that the longer he got Beth outside of the apartment, gave her something else to turn her bright blue eyes upon, the more likely she was to sleep more soundly at night. Although they could only ever coax a forty-five minute nap out of her during the day, she was starting to sleep more solidly at night, settling into a rhythm of waking up every three hours for a feed before sleeping again. It wasn't the greatest rhythm but at least it was regular.

If there was one thing he had learnt, it was that infants like predictability. So over the past week, their lives together had settled into a comfortable pattern. Whoever hadn't had to spend the night up with the baby had to deal with her first in the mornings. Personally, Schofield preferred it when Knight was on night duty because he not only got a solid night's sleep, he also usually got breakfast made for him whilst he got Beth ready in the morning. Not to mention he had come to the conclusion that he definitely had the better taste in baby clothes.

Funnily enough, Knight mostly preferred that arrangement as well. Being up all night was better than having to eat whatever Shane called breakfast in the morning.

Usually the three of them managed to eat together before Knight would split to run some errands.  
Shane still didn't know where he disappeared to but he wasn't going to ask.  
Not just yet.

Meals were one of the few things that conveniently sent Beth right off to sleep, so Shane could steal almost a whole golden hour to himself while she slept and Knight was out. If things were piling out of control, he'd use it to do domestic things like dishes or washing – which had increased exponentially with the addition of one small baby and one bounty hunter. It was a close call but the baby did seem to make the most mess. Shane often wondered how something so small could create so much mess but then with nappies and bottles and spewed on clothing and sheets, it suddenly didn't seem so surprising. The best times though, were when he was too tired himself to even care about the mess. Times like that, he had to remind himself that he was still on the mend and was allowed to take it a bit easier. Those times, he'd crash on the couch with Beth on his chest, feeling her body heat against his and her tiny little heart pounding away. More than once, Knight had come home to find both of them asleep like that, wrapped up in each other.

For some inexplicable reason, Beth could sleep for hours like that, tucked under his chin, small fingers curled around the soft, worn collar of a t-shirt. Of course, those hours of sleep meant there was no way in hell they could get her to sleep at all that night. Knight was always caught between smiling at how adorable they were like that or being seriously pissed that Shane had once again managed to muck up her routine.

Shane only had to stretch a little, which pulled up the edge of his shirt by default under which the soft white bandage was still visible, for any anger Knight might have been feeling to fade.

It was a confusing experience for Knight – one which provoked conflicting emotions that he wasn't quite ready to try and understand yet - but one both Shane and Beth clearly needed, so he let them sleep with only a small frown worrying between his eyebrows as he finished up whatever little chore Shane had started.

By the early afternoon though, Beth was well and truly awake again and making her presence known. Knight would try and prise her off Shane's chest before she disturbed him but she had developed a surprisingly strong death grip and usually refused to let go. Knight had done some reading on the matter of babies. Turns out they only have about four reflexes in their first month of life but one of them was grasping and Beth was a mastermind at it.

If he could wrestle her away without waking Shane, then Aloysius enjoyed the quality time with his daughter. If not, then Shane would usually apologise profusely for breaking her sleep pattern again and promptly bundle her up and take her out for the afternoon to try and exhaust her again.

He didn't ask Aloysius if he wanted to come as well.

But then again, Knight had never given any indication he wanted to.

If he had to admit it, their walks were Shane's favourite part of the day. He was rapidly making friends with the ducks that lived at the river's edge and never forgot to bring them the remains of the stale and mouldy bread that lurked at the bottom of his panty. He would watch Beth's eyes – so like his own – go wide when a particularly brave duck wandered right up to them to snatch the bread from his outstretched fingers.

She did, thankfully, come back exhausted and so they could bath her and feed her and have her in her little footed pyjamas and wrapped up in bed before the evening news. Then they'd have at least three hours to eat dinner and even watch a bit of TV in companionable silence before she'd wake up for the first time and the night shift would begin.

In the space of only a week, the routine had come to dominate Shane's life. Being a marine, he was no stranger to a strict routine as the corp demanded it and there certainly were aspects of it he enjoyed. He loved Beth's smile at him first thing in the morning through her gummy lips. He loved the way she kicked her feet in the bath, splashing them both, the way she would lay still in his arms whilst she ate and the heavy way she blinked as she fought off sleep with tiny clenched fists.

But all the same, he was going stir crazy and dammit, if he had to resort to grocery shopping to introduce a little variety into his life, then grocery shopping it was.

They didn't bother to pack a bag or anything. After all, they were only going to the grocery store so surely they couldn't go that far wrong.  
Shane did chuck a spare nappy on the back seat though, just in case.

It wasn't far but they decided to drive anyway, it was easier than trying to get the pram set up – those things were more complicated than your average field rifle and a damn site scarier.

On the way there, Shane had never been more conscious of his driving than now, with a small and very precious life strapped to her car seat in the back.  
Knight immediately flicked the radio over to a hard rock channel.  
Shane put in back on the softer classic rock and decided he would have to take charge of her musical education.

Knight just smirked.

When they pulled into the nearest Balducci's, Shane got Beth out of her car seat and handed the squirming bundle to Knight.  
"I'll get a basket, you get the baby," he said with a smirk.

They ambled up and down every isle, Schofield absentmindedly picking up interesting looking things like cured meats and spicy salsas whilst Knight exasperatedly reminded him of the essentials like bread and milk.  
And of course, nappies and formula.

The whole way round, Aloysius held Beth close against his shoulder, bouncing her up and down gently with each step. Her eyes followed each shelf and she made the funny little snuffling noises that indicated curiosity.

Knight supposed that when you were that small, even a grocery store was exciting.  
Shane understood exactly what she was getting at. He'd only been stuck at home for a week and the sight of a different venue was exciting, no matter how insignificant the venue. How much more then would it be for Beth, for whom it was brand spanking new – and shiny, the light in the store tended to glint off packages and bottles. She liked shiny.

That afternoon, Knight didn't disappear off to destinations unknown and Shane didn't take Beth to feed the ducks. Instead, they unpacked the entire contents of their rather large shopping trip – they had to cater for two men on high protein diets and one small but growing girl – whilst Beth played on the floor. Every time they put her on her back, she tried to roll onto her tummy. Only, once on her tummy, she couldn't lift her head up and so couldn't breathe through a mouthful of carpet.  
Nor could so roll back onto her back.  
The only thing she could do was let out a muffled sort of wail until one of them came to rescue her.

Needless to say, they were keeping a very close eye on her.

And if they passed the rest of the afternoon curled up on the sofa with hot coffee, googling quaint churches in their local area for a baptism, well, nobody other than them had to know.


	12. Part 1: Chapter 12

**A/N: **To the reviewer by the name of ebs: Man it's great to hear from you again! Sorry I can't reply to you personally, hope this note will suffice. I have to say, I think my writing style is getting crazier… so I hope that still works for you! (And for all my readers. I love you all. I really mean that. I live off seeing that little hit counter go up.) Your reviews bring me as much joy as my stories do to you so thank you for the time you take to leave them. They are like fuel for a writer! This chapter is for you.

And if anyone is interested, I styled the church described in this chapter on one I went to when I was very young. It was a tiny but very traditional little building and absolutely gorgeous. I wouldn't mind getting married there myself one day. I've never gone down the road of including religion in my stories because it's often such a controversial and troublesome subject but I promised myself when I started writing and especially when I started writing slash, that I would always be true to the realities of being gay. It's not all sunshine and daisies and easy acceptance. It's tough to accept yourself, it's tough for family and friends to accept it and it's tough for the big wide world to accept it. In my first story, Confessions, I dealt a lot with DADT. Fortunately, reality now reflects that story and DADT is no more. This story is happily set in that time where DADT is no longer an issue. Whether there is lingering effects of it in the military establishment we'll get to later. The other major issue that's being thrown around a lot in the media at the moment (especially in Australia) is the issue of homosexuality and religion. I don't want to cause trouble by bringing religion into this story but I thought it was unrealistic to ignore the attitudes of many religions towards homosexuality. Please don't flame me for my opinions, being both gay and Christian I'm stuck in the middle and spend a lot of time mediating between the two groups. If you're curious and want to know more about balancing the two or why I don't think they're mutually exclusive, please feel free to PM me but the review system is definitely not the place to leave your opinions. Feedback, yes please. Arguments, no thanks.

You might also tell me that a one week old infant is incapable of rolling over.  
I would tell you that my little brother could and my mum still enjoys telling stories about him and the stupid things he did.

This is only a wee short little chapter but the muses seem to be flowing more easily at the moment so it should be followed by another one pretty quickly.

Chapter 12

Lying stretched out on the floor, Shane mostly watched as Aloysius passed the afternoon searching through photos to find the perfect church in which to baptise their daughter but which was as yet, proving elusive.

Beside him, Beth squirmed and wriggled. He'd given up trying to stop her rolling over and getting stuck and instead lay down beside her on the threadbare carpet and tried to entertain her. Lying on his stomach and propped up on his elbows, he was looking down at her as she lay on her back, bright blue eyes fixed on him. He gently pressed one of his fingers into the palm of her tiny hand and quickly pulled it away again before her equally tiny fingers could close around it. She squealed something between astonishment and annoyance, flashing her toothless gums, every time, despite the fact they'd been at this particular game for the last quarter of an hour.

He did it again and felt the tug of her fingers on his but not strong enough to maintain her grip.  
He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"Not sure who's having more fun over there," Knight said without looking up from the laptop he had perched on his lap. "You should try peek-a-boo next."

Schofield ignored him and instead stuck his tongue out at Beth and tickled her gently along her soft sides, causing her to squeal in delight.

"Seriously," Knight continued. "Babies love peek-a-boo. I read somewhere that because they don't have any notion of something being behind another, still existing just not visible, that they really think you've disappeared. That's why they get all excited when you reappear, it's like magic."

Shane withheld a snort of laughter.  
"I can't imagine you owning baby books, let alone reading them."

Knight patently ignored him.  
"What do you think of these?" He asked instead, changing the subject.

Shane curled his legs underneath himself and sat up cross-legged beside Knight's legs, still on the floor with the baby in easy reach. Knight obligingly turned the computer so he could see and Shane was well aware that if he had only tilted his head a little more to the right, his cheek would've been resting on Knight's thigh, the muscle defined beneath his jeans.

Aloysius had settled on two different options: a small catholic church near the banks of the river. He liked the majestic old oak beams that lined the small interior, making it both homely and grand, as well as the way the sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, filling the whole church with dazzling, multi-coloured light.  
Shane liked that you could see and hear and smell the water from there. It made him feel at peace.

The other was modern and much larger. Also situated on the banks of the river at the fancier end of town, it was light and air-filled. It had a complete website – unlike the other, which only had a few photos, address and the contact details – and the banner across the top showed a multitude of smiling faces. It was obviously one of the more popular churches in town and Shane thought he recognised the name.

Just then, Beth let out a wail that threatened to become a fully-fledged cry if attention wasn't returned to her. Shane scooped her up and got to his feet. Turning to Knight, he said "Email them; see what dates they've got free. I'll put her to bed."

Leaving Knight to the computer, he put a bottle of milky formula in the microwave to heat up whilst he changed Beth out of her clothes and into the soft flannelette jumpsuit with baby bears printed all over it that she slept in. She squirmed on the change tabling, kicking her legs and flailing her arms but eventually Shane managed to wrestle her little feet into the booted legs. Once she was ready, he took her back into the kitchen briefly to get the now heated bottle and returning to the nursery, settled himself in the rocking chair under the window with her, soft and warm in his arms, to feed her. As she drank, her eyes became heavy and her body loose as she drifted off to sleep having drunk her fill. Shane gently put her in the crib and tucked a light sheet around her body, running his fingers once through her small tuft of jet black hair fondly before flicking the light off and leaving her to her dreams.

Returning to the longue room, he found Knight's face darkened as he continued to stare at the screen.

"Everything okay?" Shane asked cautiously, causing Knight to look up at him sharply. He settled himself on the couch beside Knight, drawing his legs up and curling them underneath him so he ended up sitting comfortably cross-legged, facing Knight.

"We've already heard back from one of them," Knight said bitingly, "they only offer baptisms on Sunday mornings for regular members of their congregation."

"Well that's reasonable," Shane said calmly, trying to appease him. "Which one?"

"The larger one," Knight replied, "And it is reasonable which is exactly why they didn't need to go on to say that they wouldn't perform a baptism for a child raised by two men anyway."

Shane winced internally, he hadn't even considered that possibility but before he could speak, Knight had continued angrily.

"We're not even - " He began but he trailed off.

For a moment, Shane stopped caring about the church and was far more interested in the end the end of that sentence. They weren't what? Gay? Or a couple? He was starting to believe that at least one of those was true and perhaps, he would have quite liked it if they were both true. If someone had told him when this all first started that he would be the one coping with it and all its implications better than Knight, he wouldn't have believed them. Knight had always seemed so confident, so sure of himself and seeing him stripped to his bare humanity and vulnerableness was strange to see. In some ways, Shane guessed it was almost like looking in a mirror.

That said, if someone had told him this would have ended in a baby and a huge shake up of his life, he wouldn't have believed them either. In fact, he would've sent them straight to the nearest shrink but some changes, some unexpected things, he was learning, were not always unwelcome.

Either way, he didn't particularly like going over these thoughts because they always left him with an empty sort of ache in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't blame on the still healing wound.

Knight sat brooding and Shane thought perhaps it was wise to change the topic. He couldn't see any way that pursuing this discussion was ever going to end well.

"About what I said this morning," Shane broached, causing Knight to look at him blankly. "About me going back to the marines and you doing all the cooking and cleaning, I was only half joking. Not about the cooking part, you can definitely do all the cooking - "

Knight laughed and Shane took a deep breath before continuing.

" – but I only ever had a week of medical leave and I've got to go back tomorrow. I can't be a single parent and a marine."

"I'm planning on staying," Knight replied evenly but Shane pressed on, knowing now he was definitely on touchy ground.

"But she doesn't need a father that disappears off for months at a time to go and kill people."

Knight quirked a single eyebrow at him incredulously.

"She doesn't need a father that disappears off for months at a time to go and kill people illegally," Shane quickly amended.

"I'm planning on staying," Knight repeated, more firmly this time.

It wasn't a promise but it was pretty damn close to one.


	13. Part 1: Chapter 13

**A/N: **Welcome back Muses! I am a very happy chappy cause the muses have decided to cooperate again more than they have for several months now.

This chapter is for DarkHunter643.

Chapter 13

The next morning, Shane Schofield got up, kissed his daughter goodbye, ignored the bounty hunter asleep on his couch and took himself off to his first day back as a marine.

By lunchtime, he was back in the apartment, in his bed in fact and unconscious. The baby was crying and the bounty hunter in question was very much not ignoring him.

As he slowly returned to consciousness, Shane found that he could only recall snatches of the morning.

There had been a certain amount of unease amongst his marines. They didn't quite know how to treat him but there was no outright hostility. Shane would have been surprised if he had encountered that from his unit but he was expecting at least some ribbing from the other marines that lived and worked on base. There were few places on earth that gossiped as well as the marine corp and so Schofield was expecting the knowledge that he suddenly acquired a baby to have spread like wildfire although the details of exactly where that baby had come from seemed to be absent.  
Or perhaps they just weren't being believed.

Either way, there was a faint undercurrent of curiosity – heads turned and whispers carried - that followed him through the hallways and training fields but nothing more than that.

When he found his unit preparing in the hand-to-hand combat training dojo, they were clearly glad to see him. He received more than one slap on the back and several friendly inquiries into the baby's growth to which he was happy to report that she was getting chubbier by the day.

He had always liked the atmosphere in the dojo. Despite the violent actions that went on within it, there was always an aura of calm and control. It was a good way to think of fighting, Shane thought. If you lost that control, that calm centre, then the battle would go to hell on a handcart faster than you could believe.

He warmed up gently, testing out still healing muscles and others that were stiff from lack of use but eventually decided he was okay.  
All the same, he decided to start off easy on himself and picked Astro to spar with.

Corporal Sean "Astro" Miller was lithe and light on his feet but he didn't pack too hard a punch – at least, not compared to another marine. With his sandy blonde hair and wide blue eyes, he looked the part of the innocent boy next door perfectly but he could knock someone stone cold out almost as fast as he could recount the latest issue of Batman and that was saying something. Like the superheroes he adored, Astro fought with his brains and his heart and well and truly made up for what he lacked in sheer physicality.

Being a tactical fighter himself, Schofield thought he would get the edge on Astro fairly easily.  
He thought wrong.

He twisted hard to avoid a sharp upper-cut and felt an ominous twinge in his gut. The sudden spread of pain slowed him for only a second but a second was all Astro needed to land a second punch square in the chest. His brain felt foggy and muddled but Schofield managed to remain upright long enough to register an odd look of shock passing across Astro's face. Whatever he was seeing, it scared him enough to land the second punch on his chest and not his face, where he really ought to. Astro's hand went to grip Shane's shoulder and it looked like he was trying to say something but it was too late.

Shane Schofield dropped like a stone, blood staining his fatigues.

When he woke, it was to three angry faces peering down at him. Well, Mother mostly just looked angry. Jean Grey looked mildly bemused – as though she had known he would do something like this – and slightly frustrated. There was something that looked oddly like open concern written across Aloysius Knight's face.

Not that Knight couldn't feel concern for other people, the way he looked after Rufus was proof of that.  
But he didn't show it.

"Hi," he said weakly in vain hope that his present pitiful state would deflect some of the anger.

Needless to say it didn't work.

"You're an idiot," Mother replied flatly. "I had to carry you back here and we both got covered in blood. Thank heavens I've got plenty of experience getting blood outta fatigues or I'd be tempted to make you pay for dry cleaning."

Jean tactfully withheld a laugh but it shone through her piercing eyes.  
"I happen to know for a fact that you were given discharge instructions because I wrote them," She said and Shane thought he could perhaps recall an envelope given to him as he left the hospital. Can't remember what he did with it, but he remembers it and that's a start. "You've managed to tear open that very nearly healed wound so you'll have to start again from day one. That means two weeks of no heavy lifting and no strenuous exercise which this time, I'm making very clear, includes martial arts of any description or any other duties usually performed as part of your marine service. Is that understood?"

Shane nodded meekly under the triple threat of their gazes.

"You are on enforced medical leave for the foreseeable future." Jean continued firmly. "Sergeant Riley has taken temporary command of the unit with the help of Gunnery Sergeant Newman and you will not be allowed to return to active service without a signed letter from myself. I would suggest you take that time to heal properly and spend it with your family. When you feel sufficiently healed, you may come and visit us at the mansion and I will decide if you are so. Every time you turn up clearly unfit to return to service, I will add another month to your leave. Clear?"

Schofield swallowed. He could take lessons from this woman. Hell, Mother could take lessons from this woman. In fact, he was rather concerned she was.  
"Clear," he repeated.

Jean offered him a smile and turned to go.

"What did you tell the corp?" He asked suddenly to her retreating back.

This time, she actually laughed. A delicate, friendly and thus utterly deceptive sound.  
"We didn't tell them anything, Captain Schofield. We persuaded them," She said with another one of those beautiful smiles. "You'll soon learn it's best to have the telepaths on your side."

Then she was gone, leaving him alone with Mother brooding in the corner and Knight pacing beside the bed. In the background, he could hear Beth stir and Knight promptly stormed off to settle her.

"You're an idiot," Mother repeated, as soon as he'd left the room.

"So I've been told," Shane replied, wincing as he tried to sit upright.

"Not about ripping your stitches," she shot back, "though that was pretty damn stupid. No, you're being an idiot about Knight. You want him, he wants you. Stop dancing around each other."

Shane had to admit, Mother had the subtlety of a blunt hammer but she was perceptive.

"He doesn't want me," he replied softly. "Not the way I want him."

Mother snorted.  
"Yes he does," she said. "You should have seen the look on his face when I dragged you through that door pale as a ghost and covered in blood. The Black Knight looked frightened, actually frightened. Now I don't know if he was frightened for you or frightened because of you. Hell, I reckon he was frightened about being frightened for you but there's something about you that affects him. So stop being an idiot and fuck him already."

Perceptive.  
Perhaps not eloquent.

Another wave of pain rolled over him at the slightest move.  
"Fairly sure that counts as strenuous exercise," he replied, tongue in cheek.

Mother growled. She actually growled at him but she dropped a kiss on top of his head as she left, so he figured he was probably in the clear.

When Knight came back, he was carrying Beth. Sitting himself down on the edge of the bed next to Schofield, he handed the crying baby over and watched with both annoyance and gratitude as her cries turned to whimpers before finally fading away to nothing.

"She still won't do that for me," Knight said.

"I'm sorry," Shane replied and they both knew he wasn't sorry that Beth settled easier for him.

For a long moment, Knight didn't say anything. Just pulled his sunglasses down a little and passed a tired hand over his eyes. He looked hard at the floor as though checking he hadn't left any recognisable marks with his pacing.

"Don't do that again," He said eventually, looking up to meet Shane's eyes. "She could tell something was wrong and she wasn't happy about it."

In his mind, Shane knew there were still things unsaid but he let it drop and instead accepted the two small but powerful painkillers Knight handed him, swapping them for the baby.

Swallowing them dry, Shane felt the rolling ache in his stomach subside but a heavy fog settled behind his eyes and he felt them shutting involuntarily.

"Sleep," he thought he heard Knight mutter and then he was out like a light.

Shane didn't sleep for long. He was woken in the early evening by a roaring pain in his stomach that had only a little to do with burst stitches and a hell of a lot more to do with missing out on lunch. Gingerly, he slipped out of the bed and padded down the hallway in the soft pants he wore to sleep in – he hadn't even bothered to put his sunglasses on – to the longue where he found Knight sprawled out on the couch with a beer in one hand and Beth in the other, watching a muted game of football. He paused in the doorway for a moment, watching the relaxed look on Knight's face and the way the patch of drool was gradually spreading across his shirt as Beth slept against him, little hands curled into fists, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Hey," Shane said simply as he dropped onto the couch beside Knight. He managed to withhold most of a wince.

With hindsight, hand-to-hand combat wasn't his best idea. He felt like he'd set his recovery right back to stage one. Every one of his muscles felt like he'd pushed them to the limits despite the fact he hadn't even made it through one round. The freshly opened wound throbbed and his head ached dully in agreement.

"Hey," Knight repeated, "Did we wake you?"

Shane shook his head and reached out with one hand to stroke Beth's cheek, felt it twitch as she dreamt. He wondered briefly what she could be dreaming about beyond different types of formula and never ending games of peek-a-boo but Knight's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you need anything?" He asked and this time, the concern was evident in his voice even if his face was carefully schooled to be blank.

"Could go for one of those though," he said genially, tipping his head towards the bottle clutched in Knight's hand.

Knight snorted a brief laugh.  
"You're on painkillers," he reminded him, "I don't think so."

Shane knew he was probably right so he didn't press the point. Instead, he leant his head back against the worn leather of the couch and moaned, "I'm starving."

Knight turned to look at him, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.  
"Well I was thinking about making pancakes," he said.

"You can't have pancakes for dinner," Schofield shot back immediately.

Knight looked at him, smirk no longer a hint.  
"And why the hell not?" He said.

With that, he swilled the last of the beer in one mouthful and stood up, careful not to disturb Beth. He grabbed Shane by the wrist, his larger hand comfortably encircling it and dragged him to the kitchen for an impromptu cooking lesson.

"Find an egg, some milk and the self-raising flour," he ordered, "whilst I put Beth to bed. Pancake making is a serious business not suited to infants."

When he came back, he found one half of Shane sticking out the pantry whilst the top half rooted around the top shelves searching for the requested ingredients.

"You've moved everything around," Shane grumbled good naturedly, "I can't find anything anymore."

"Seeing as there was nothing in that pantry before, that can't be true," Knight retorted and reached over Schofield's shoulder to grab the unopened packet of self-raising flour.

"Eggs are in the fridge," he practically whispered, right into Schofield's ear.

If Shane had taken even half a step back, he would have crashed into Knight's solid body. As it was, he just ducked under the arm and yanked open the fridge door.  
That way he could pretend the shiver that ran up his body was just from the cold air.

Grabbing the carton of milk and an egg, he spun around and leaned against the counter, arms crossed across his chest and watched as Knight rifled through the cupboards looking for god knows what. Shane wasn't in any mind to help him either and that had nothing to do whatsoever with the fact that he couldn't remember what was in any of those cupboards, seeing as he hadn't really used them since he moved in.

What he was looking for turned out to be a bowl – which he turned and gave to Schofield – and a large frypan.

"Put all the ingredients in that," he said, "and remember to crack the egg first. Don't just put it in whole."

Schofield pulled a face at him but Knight ignored him, corners of his lips barely twitching with a supressed laugh as he turned to light the stove and heat the frypan. Only a second later though, he turned back to Shane and, pointing a spatula at him accusingly, said, "and don't get any shell in there either."

Perhaps deliberately, Knight had found the easiest pancake recipe he could and so it didn't take long for Schofield to mix the grand total of three ingredients into a gluey batter.  
He had even checked it twice for egg shell.

Instead, he settled back and watched as Knight dove back into the fridge and pulled out a packet of spicy Spanish sausages which he sliced up finely and began to fry. He watched the way the muscles in Knight's arm flexed, his wrist flicked almost impossibly delicately, as he stirred the fry pan. The muscles of his shoulder were taut under his tight black t-shirt and moved gracefully whenever he reached for something. Maybe Knight felt his gaze on the back of his neck because he suddenly grunted at Shane, "Grab the last of that pasta sauce from a couple of nights back would you."

Knight let his gaze wander from the pan for just a moment to trace the lean, muscular lines of Schofield's arms, the tight curve of his jeans, as he bent down to search through the fridge for the sauce, pushed right to the back.

"Thanks," he said gruffly when Shane passed it to him. He had streaks of white flour on the dark fabric of his jeans where he must have brushed his hands off. Endearingly, he also had managed to get a small smudge of it on the side of his nose.  
Knight didn't mention it.  
He was however, visited by the strangest desire to reach over and brush it off.

Instead, he coated the thin sausage slices thickly in the leftover bolognaise, the rich smell of tomato and spices filling the cramped kitchen before transferring most of the mixture onto a plate before adding some of the batter to what remained of the sausage in the pan. Within minutes, he had a stack of spicy, savoury pancakes filling up the plate.

"That's what's so great about pancakes," Knight said as he shoved the plate towards Schofield. "They go with everything so you can make them savoury for dinner and then sweet for desert."

As if to prove his point, the next stack smelt of banana and the warm, soothing smell of vanilla. Knight covered them in honey and for the next not-so-little while, neither of them spoke as they polished off the two large stacks of pancakes.

Knight had always enjoyed cooking. Being a bounty hunter meant little in the way of downtime and a heck of a lot of looking over your shoulder so he hadn't managed to fit many hobbies into the past couple of years. Cooking then, worked out well because it was not only a creative expression but also had a very practical outcome. Even wanted federal fugitives need to eat.

It had been a while since he'd had someone else to feed though.

As they finished up and began to clear the plates away, Knight was saved from having to break the comfortable silence with forced conversation as the laptop, still lying abandoned on the couch, dinged with an incoming email.

Knight strode over to it but his face furrowed over quickly.  
"It's from the other church," he said quietly, "the small one."

He hesitated momentarily but when he opened it, he breathed an obvious sigh of relief and looked up at Shane, usual grin back in place.  
"They'd be delighted," he said, reading the succinct but polite email aloud. "They've sent a list of dates as well."

Shane wandered over and leant behind Knight to read the email over his shoulder. Suddenly, Knight was incredibly aware of Shane's hand, resting only inches from his, of the rise and fall of his chest just behind Knight's own and his lips, if he'd turned his head, he could have kissed them.

For a moment, he entertained the idea of how that would feel. Shane's lips would be dry and chapped by firm against his and he would still taste sweet from the honey. Then he pushed those thoughts away. If he'd been a lesser man with lesser self-control, he might have stammered when next he spoke but as always, his words were smooth, cool.

"You should go to bed," Knight said. "You've had a busy day."

Then and only then did he allow himself to turn his head and find Schofield's eyes, trying to read what was going on behind them. They were so shockingly blue in the absence of the usual sunglasses. Without them, Knight felt like he was privilege to Schofield's very soul. It was private, intimate and for a moment, they stayed locked like that until Shane nodded tersely.

"Night," he said under his breath.

"Night," Aloysius replied.


	14. Part 1: Chapter 14

**A/N: **First of all, some replies to my wonderful reviewers:

To Prototypicality: I'm not so sure of your definition of cooking my dear. I do believe the only thing Shane was permitted to do was mix three ingredients into a bowl – although admittedly one of the ingredients was an egg and they can be tricky bastards. Knight has no intentions whatsoever of letting him anywhere near the stove or anything more complicated than packet mix. On the other hand, if the idea of Knight cooking works for you, you should keep an eye out for a fic from Black666Hunter which I do believe will involve a similar vein… it may even involve a cooking show, who knows!

To DarkHunter643: And I am glad to hear it brightened your day! I wouldn't worry too much though. Astro is definitely a Marvel guy as well. In my headcanon, he grew up wanting to be Captain America and/or Ant Man but seeing as I'm currently obsessed with the Avengers, I thought it would be very unsubtle of me to include Avengers references in an MR fic.

And to my guest reviewer(s?): You have me very confused! I'm trying to work out if you are someone I haven't met before who's left me three (very kind) reviews. Or three separate someones on three different occasions. Or you could be someone I do know who just forgot to log in or even three different people I know who each forgot to log in one time. Very confused! Either way, thank you. I'm sorry I can't reply to you personally. The comment about finishing school makes me think I perhaps do know you but I could be wrong. Congratulations! Finishing school is a very exciting time. I promise Jack will be back. Definitely not in this story cause that would be weird but there will be a third part to the confessions arc. I only ever write one story at a time to ensure that I finish them but he will be back later! I'm very glad you like him that much! And Rufus should what? I've recently been having some rather interesting conversations about exactly what Shane, Knight _and _Rufus ought to get up to if that's what you're hinting at. Again, definitely not in this story but I wouldn't entirely rule it out for the future. And of course, Happy Birthday!

I'm very sorry the boys keep dancing around each other. The way I see it is, before Beth was born, Knight would always use sex as a means of forgetting. It was physical and nothing more. But now, with the baby here and being forced to spend lots of time together with clothes on, he's becoming more aware of the fact that there might be feelings involved and once there's feelings involved, it can't just be casual sex and it can't be not-casual sex cause then he has to deal with it. Hence, no sex for the time being. Knight wants to. He just doesn't really want to want to if that makes sense. Schofield on the other hand is significantly better adjusted, fully prepared for sex, feelings and everything that implies but he's also a really nice guy so he's patient, waiting for Knight to come to him. Slowly, slowly catch a monkey. But that doesn't mean he won't tease him...

I hope that explains a little the slow progression between them. This isn't like my other series where both male characters in the pairings had had some time to come to terms with sexuality beforehand and then feelings. Schofield and Knight are trying to deal with a crisis of sexuality, falling in love and having a baby all at the same time so it's not going to be easy on them. On the other hand, they've got a whole lot of backstory from before Beth was born that's pretty much all sex and trying to pretend feelings don't exist that we've yet to really cover. We're going to cover a bit of that today but only briefly. Not to worry though, it won't be long, neither of them are that patient!

This is a seriously long note, sorry! Only one more thing: seeing as this is fanfic I can't actually register for NaNoWriMo but I think i'll do it unofficially anyway. Ergo, I plan on finishing this story by the end of November. Dunno if that'll actually happen but I'm going to try. Finished before Christmas at the latest! Wish me luck!

Okay, now story time.

Chapter 14

Enforced medical leave, it turned out, had its benefits. One of which was plenty more time to spend with his daughter. The next morning, Shane Schofield washed down a handful of painkillers with the leftover pancakes – they weren't half bad cold – and went to fetch Beth. Having reached the grand milestone of one week old, she was due for her very first doctor's check-up. When he went into her nursery, she was already awake and waving her tiny hands, curled tight into fists, around. As far as Shane could tell, she wasn't quite yet aware that they were a part of her but they were certainly keeping her entertained as she tried to track their movements with alert eyes. Shane couldn't put words to how grateful he felt every time her bright blue eyes latched onto his own or tried to follow something – her curiosity was far more advanced than her body, to her immense frustration – having considered the possibility she might never have done so.

He scooped her up and deposited her on the change table where she promptly tried to wriggle off, quite a feat seeing as she hadn't yet developed control over her limbs. Chuckling to himself, Shane held her down gently, he could still clasp her body in one hand, fingers splayed across her tummy but probably not for much longer at the rate she was growing. Her tummy was rounder every day and her legs chubbier – all the better to kick with. With his other hand, he efficiently swiped her belly button with an antiseptic wipe and changed her diaper.  
Shane Schofield was a fast learner.

With Beth all freshly cleaned and smelling like talcum powder, he shimmied her into a plain white t-shirt and a pair of pale orange overalls with matching white daisies on the pockets. Knight had read somewhere that extremely bright colours could be overwhelming and confusing at the least for a newborn and at worst, downright damaging for their developing eyesight.

Shane thought it was probably nonsense.  
He still made sure to dress her in pastels though.

When he took her through the lounge and into the kitchen, he found that there was no bounty hunter asleep on his couch as expected.

Schofield just shrugged as he prepared the formula.

"One step forward, two steps back," he said to Beth as he fed her breakfast.

The morning after that fateful night so many months ago now, Shane had woken to the warm, solid weight of Knight beside him, breathing softly, and vaguely pleasant pain still lingering in his limbs and other places it was too early to think about. On the surface, it was perfect post-coital bliss but he only had to drag himself back to the edges of awareness to identify the problem with the scene.

Knight's muscles were tense and his breathing too shallow to be truly sleeping.  
All the same, his eyes were firmly shut and if he felt Schofield shift in the bed, he didn't give any visible sign. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelid.

Knight had always had a mean poker face.

Shane contemplated rolling back over, falling back into easy sleep and simply ignoring him. Instead, he slipped from the bed and went to brew a pot of coffee and allowed Knight the option to continue pretending to sleep with his dignity intact.

A few minutes later, Knight padded softly into the kitchen just as Shane put a second cup under the drip. He looked remarkably like a panther on the prowl, barely contained danger.

"Morning," Shane said as cheerfully as he dared and received no reply for his trouble. He surveyed Knight over the top of his cup. "So… This is awkward."

Again, Knight kept his silence other than a low growl at the back of his throat that should have warned Shane to back off but almost foolhardy determination had always been one of Schofield's better characteristics. So instead, he set the coffee mug down just as Knight reached over to snag the other one and said seriously, "I think this has reached the point where we need to talk about this like the mature, civilised adults we are.

"Preferably in a non-violent manner," he added when Knight's face clouded over like a breaking storm.

"Nothing to talk about," Knight said gruffly into his coffee, not meeting Shane's eye.

Shane shrugged his shoulders good naturedly and continued calmly, "I think there is."

Silence reigned in the small kitchen for a long moment until Schofield said softly, "I don't do the casual fuck thing, Knight. So what are we doing here?"

"I'm not a queer," Knight shot back immediately, voice rough from more than just the early morning.

"I didn't say you were," Shane replied gently, "This is confusing for me too. Hell, I was pretty damn sure I was exclusively for team female until you decided to break in here. So let's not get caught up on labels here yet. I like this."

Schofield took a mouthful of the hot liquid, felt is scald his tongue, stalling for a minute more to get his thoughts in order.

"But I'd like more," he concluded tentatively.

Throughout, Knight's expression hadn't visibly changed but Schofield could still sense the change. It was as though the clouds had darkened and shutters had gone up behind his eyes – visible but tinted through the amber lenses.

"Well I don't," Knight practically spat back, voice rising in volume, "I don't want to be a part of that freak show."

With that, he slammed the mostly full cup of coffee down, spilling it over the counter top and stalked out the door.

"Well that went well," Schofield had said to himself sardonically and began to mop up the mess.

Three weeks after that, Shane opened the apartment door to find him standing there again, looking repentant but also like he would jump out of his skin at the slightest provocation. Shane let him in.  
Let him fuck him hard and held him afterwards as he shook himself apart.

The next morning, a mug got smashed and Knight stormed out again.

It was after that, that Schofield finally okay'd himself to return to active service and naturally, the first place he ended up was a carrier ship literally in the middle of a non-existent place named Hell and half-eaten alive by gorillas as the powers that be betrayed him once again.  
He really ought to review his trust mechanisms.

Those trust mechanisms which were put even further to the test when he returned home to find Knight on his building's doorstep in the pouring rain and looking like a drowned rat.  
Apparently, the neighbours had been keeping an eye on him for days. The little old lady across the hallway thought he looked shady.  
Apparently, he knew all the particulars of Schofield's highly classified mission.

This time, Shane could feel Knight's hands actually shake when they touched him.

They shook with the realisation he might never have touched him again.  
They shook because then, in the face of human frailty and stark reality, he couldn't deny that the thought of never touching him again frightened him.  
That he needed the person he was touching and not just the touch itself.

This time, a chair was thrown at a wall and Knight swore he was never coming back.

The next time Shane Schofield laid eyes on Aloysius Knight, he couldn't even punch him because he had his arms full with a newborn but dammit, he would have liked to.

One step forward, two steps back.

Hence why Knight's disappearances didn't give him any cause for concern yet. He needed the time to get his head around things and Schofield was just glad none of his belongings were being destroyed in the process.  
All the same, he had thought Knight might have wanted to come along to Beth's first check-up.

But they were running short of time and couldn't wait for him to return. So instead, he prepared the paraphernalia involved in taking Beth anywhere outside the house and strapped her into the stroller so they could wander down slowly to the Newborn Care Clinic two blocks away.

When they arrived, he wasn't surprised to find he was the only unaccompanied male there.

There were plenty of fathers, sitting restlessly beside their respective women, uncomfortable in what was the clear domain of women.

There were plenty of other males as well but they were generally wearing bonnets and booties and throwing rattles from prams.

The waiting room itself was one noisy, busy, bustling place. There were infants of all sizes, ranging from those as tiny as Beth – one of which still had nasal prongs connected to an oxygen canister, overlarge and harsh against his tiny frame and paper-thin skin – to a couple beginning to toddle on unsteady legs with frantic mother's chasing after them. There were nappies and exposed breasts and the constant, ear-piercing wail. Shane was glad they didn't have long to wait.

Twenty minutes later, a large African-American woman ushered them into one of the small examination rooms. She looked frazzled.

Schofield could understand how this job might make anyone frazzled.

The nurse – a quick glance at her name badge over her ample bust said her name was Alice - was brisk and perfunctory, stripping Beth of her clothing and nappy and laying her out on the exam table whilst she tapped at her reflex points, listened to her breathing and measured her heartbeat.

The whole time, Shane was offering a silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in that Beth wouldn't do anything inappropriate like pee on the equipment – but then again, he supposed that probably wasn't an uncommon occurrence around here.

For a moment, Schofield was suddenly extremely grateful for his own job. The only bodily fluid he had to handle was blood and at least that didn't smell.

As it turned out, Beth was remarkably well behaved, even only letting out a small whine when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched her bare skin. That was, until the nurse went to take her measurements.

The nurse deposited her on the scale, tugging gently at each of her limbs before turning around to write the numbers down on her chart. As she did so, Shane saw Beth begin to wriggle out of the corner of his eye. It was a wriggle he was immensely familiar with. She would shuffle on her back – the movement reminded him startlingly of the killer whales at Wilkes; he tried not to think about Wilkes – and when she'd built up enough momentum, she would roll over almost involuntarily.

Which wasn't normally a problem because a) she was usually on the ground and b) Schofield or Knight or both of them were usually keeping a close eye on her and could rescue her once she got stuck like that.

With her lying on top of the scales, on top of the bench, a fair way off the ground, this was perhaps a problem.

"Excuse me," Shane said from the chair he had been directed to in the corner of the room, "I think she's trying to roll over."

The nurse turned back to face him, surveying him condescendingly over the thin wire half-rimmed glasses she wore half-way down her nose.  
"Honey," she said in the voice Shane suspected she reserved especially for first time parents, "Week old babies can't roll over."

Schofield was going to correct her but she'd already turned back to the scales. Thankfully, just in time as Beth decided to demonstrate exactly how well she could roll over but instead of falling to the floor, she merely rolled up against the warm bulk of the woman's stomach.

At that moment, Shane really wished Knight was there to see it because the look on the nurse's face and her surprised exclamation were priceless.

He resisted the urge to say 'told you so.' Instead, he sat there very well behaved whilst the nurse told him that she was still underweight and her heart rate was faster than average but that given her prematurity, neither were issues to worry about yet, come back in a month and things ought to have sorted themselves out by then. Because Beth was premature, she had a fair bit of extra growing to do in order to catch up with her term counterparts. In fact, at one week old, she hadn't even technically reached her gestational age yet so really, he didn't need to worry.

Shane thought that they really should reconsider the fruitless action of telling new parents not to worry.  
From his experience so far, worrying was all they did.

All in all though, it was an encouraging experience to see her growth quantifiable measured. From under five pounds and fifteen inches long at birth, she had gained an impressive one pound and two and a half inches, leaving her a solid six pounds, seventeen and a half inches, right on track for her gestational age.

Beth got a stamp in her records and Shane got some reassurance that he was at least doing something right.

The walk back home was pleasant enough in the afternoon sunlight. It was shaping up to a beautiful summer. The lazy heat however, was more than enough to make both of them drowsy and it wasn't long after they arrived back at the apartment that Beth was well and truly settled for an afternoon nap. Actually, Shane had also been contemplating an afternoon kip on the couch when the whirlwind fondly known as Aloysius Knight stormed his way back in and hustled Schofield backwards across the room and up against the kitchen bench, right in his personal space.

"How do you do this to me," he said through clenched teeth. His eyes shone with what looked disturbingly like pain and his hands, where they tangled in Schofield's shirt none too gently, were rough but shaking almost imperceptibly. "It's like you're under my skin."

"I can't stop thinking about you," Knight said against Schofield's lips before slamming them together.


	15. Part 1: Chapter 15

**A/N: **I've said this briefly before, but here in more detail: For the life of me, I could not find a medical condition to accurately describe Knight's eye problem from the books, hence I've come to the conclusion it probably doesn't exist. There are a whole host of diseases under the fairly broad banner of Retinal Dystrophy however none of them would only cause extreme sensitivity to light. Almost all of them would render him blind or mostly blind alongside other serious medical conditions not well suited to the life of a bounty hunter. So here's the mixture of facts and headcanon I'm going on with regards to Knight's eyes:

His condition is degenerative, so it will get worse as he ages, possibly until he becomes entirely blind  
At this stage of his life, it's progressed far enough that he cannot handle natural sunlight or artificial lights at all without his amber tinted glasses.  
However, he doesn't need the glasses at night. Moonlight is a little painful but as long as he doesn't look directly at it, he can manage.  
He doesn't need block-out curtains. He can sleep with just normal curtains and the lights off. In the morning, he's trained himself to wake up without opening his eyes and always keeps his sunglasses in easy reach.  
His condition is genetic and may be passed onto his children but Beth doesn't have it, to his immense relief.  
It only affects his eyes. He is otherwise well.

Hope that helps. As always, anyone with any medical knowledge that would like to correct me, please do so!

Also, I've come to the conclusion that I write better foreplay than actual sex…

Finally, one last question that's been intriguing me for a while now. The hit counter is telling me that chapter 8 has been receiving on average six or so times more hits than any other chapter, every month since it was posted, consistently. It's not a sex scene, I went back and checked, so it can't be people simply looking for the smut… What is it with chapter 8?!

And actually finally, I'm really quite fond of this chapter. I think I have a new favourite sentence that I have ever written. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 15

Knight surged forward, smashing their bodies together at every possible joint, his knees pushed between Schofields, their chests pressed flush so each could feel the other's every heaving breath, the hard curve of a hip rocked against the other's thigh. His hands scrabbled for purchase on the thin cotton of Schofield's t-shirt, trying to anchor onto his calm, steady presence but at the same time, flying wildly across the heat of his skin, trying to touch every inch of it as though he might disappear at any moment and Knight could never touch him again.

Shane just leant back against the kitchen counter and let him touch and taste as he needed. He covered Knight's mouth with his own, swallowing every desperate half-sob Knight gave him and braced his hands against Knight's firm biceps, holding him steady.

"It's okay," he mumbled against Knight's lips, "It's okay."

Some of the tension seemed to fall off of Knight as sudden as it had come on and he slumped against Schofield, head resting in the crook where his neck met shoulder. Shane brought one hand up to card through Knight's short hair gently, skimmed over the shell of his ear and down the line of his jaw, rough with stubble. His other hand stayed firm on Knight's bicep, rubbing slow circles into the skin.

"It's okay," he whispered again, right into Knight's temple.

Surprisingly, without the friction of their desperate rutting, he was actually more aware of the weight of Knight's erection, hot and heavy against his thigh. Equally, he could feel the way the muscles of Knight's perfectly carved thigh trembled against his own hardness. It would have been so easy to just push forward, to feel the rough drag of their jeans and legs against each other, to let themselves fight and tear at each other's mouths until they came there in the kitchen but it wasn't enough. Shane wanted every square of Knight, the taste of sweat on his bare skin and the heat of their bodies against cool sheets so instead, he gave a gentle push with his hand still on Knight's bicep, pushing them just far enough apart to look into Knight's clouded eyes but close enough to keep his grip.

"Come on," he said gently, running his hand down the length of Knight's arm until he could clasp his hand in his own.

Knight's intake of breath was sharp and he swallowed audibly but nodded and allowed Schofield to tug his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

"Are you sure?" Schofield asked as he shut the door behind them and pulled the curtains across tight. Knight nodded shortly and reached for him but Shane gently brushed his arms away. "I'm not going back to how things were before. This is a relationship or nothing and if you can't handle that, you've got to stop now."

Knight reached for him again.  
"I want you," he said haltingly against Schofield's lips, "I don't always want to want you but I can't stop. This can't stop."

Shane nodded his ascent and let Knight tumble him to the bed, let Knight straddle him, let him methodically and efficiently divest them both of their clothes down to their boxers and let Knight's eyes and hands roam his body with undisguised, naked and desperate need. He rocked back on his heels, giving Shane enough room to draw himself upright until he was sitting with Knight's weight resting on his thighs. Tangling one of his hands in Knights hair, he brought the other up and reached for the light switch and flicking it off, plunged them into shadow. Then with that same hand, he brushed Knight's sunglasses off, they both heard them clatter to the floor, before forsaking his own. In the darkness, Knight's deep, brown eyes glinted almost black and Schofield returned to kissing the sense out of him. Knight's hands tentatively explored his body, fingers tripping over the sharp line of his collarbone, ghosting down the sensitive skin of his sides and dipping into the small of his back before venturing lower to skim the vulnerable, pale skin of perfectly formed arse.

As Knight touched him, Shane thrust up, grinding their hips together hard enough to cause Knight to grunt into his mouth. Never patient, Knight abandoned his tactile exploration and went to plunge a hand between their bodies to shove underwear aside but he never reached the soft intimate skin beneath them as his hand brushed against the soft white bandage across Schofield's stomach, causing him to hiss in pain.

"Shit, sorry," he said immediately, pulling back. "I forgot."

"S'fine," Schofield muttered, trying to steal Knight's mouth back but Knight had pulled away for more than just the accidental hurt. He couldn't see, feel, remember, the bandage and the wound that lay beneath it without remembering exactly how it had got there.

"Fuck," he breathed, "You could get pregnant."

This time, Schofield moaned in frustration, achingly hard and still with two layers of admittedly thin boxers between him and Knight's bare skin.

"Got condoms," he said by way of reply, dropping his head to Knight's shoulder and sinking his teeth in but Knight shook his head.

"Might break," he gasped out as Shane twisted his hips sharply upwards again.

"You're paranoid," Schofield shot back, building up a steady rhythm. At this point, he would settle for coming in his boxers and if Knight didn't make a bloody move that might've become a reality, "Really paranoid, and way to coherent."

Abruptly, he stilled and drew back with a wicked smirk that reached all the way to his eyes.  
"I can get pregnant," he said slowly, "you can't."

By the time Knight's lust addled brain caught up and realised where this was heading with a momentary flash of panic, Schofield had already managed to extradite himself from underneath Knight, flipping them and pinning him down with a short, sharp twist of his legs.

Dropping his hips firmly against Knight's, he leant down and bit Knight's ear sharp and as quick as lightning, but not before he'd whispered firmly into it, "roll over."

Knight did as ordered, rolling onto his stomach. From this position, he could feel every tantalising inch of friction from the sheets, already damp with sweat, against his over sensitized skin. His back, he suddenly realised, was achingly cold and Schofield seemed to have disappeared. He was about to turn his head to look when the touch returned, feather-light and not where he was expecting it to be, with a light kiss against his ankle. Followed quickly by one at the inside of his knee and at the top of his thighs. Knight was about to remind him that these weren't exactly erogenous zones but given the enthusiasm his dick was showing for the proceedings, he thought the point might be moot.

The cold air became more pronounced when Shane lifted his hips and whipped his boxers away, amplified more so by the cool drizzle of lube.

Liberal amounts of lube.  
So that when Shane cautiously trailed one finger down the line of his ass to press gently at his entrance, he could already feel him begin to clench around that barest of intrusions, trying to draw him in. At first, Shane was tentative, curious as he explored this new territory of Knight's body – for all their previous intimacy, they had never breached this particular barrier – but quickly found his rhythm with one, two and then three fingers. The slow burn of the stretching and scissoring felt like it was lighting a fire in Knight's belly and he rutted helplessly against the bed until a steady hand on the small of his back and the sudden withdrawal of the fingers stopped him.

In the absence of other overwhelming sensations, Knight could clearly hear the sound of Schofield's own underwear joining the mess on the floor as well as a foil being opened but all other conscious awareness fled when he felt Schofield breach him in one slow, smooth move.

Draped across the gorgeous planes and ridges Knight's slightly larger body, touching every inch of his skin, Shane could only just reach up far enough to press his lips into the back of Knight's neck, trace his tongue down the ridges of Knight's exposed spine. Like this, he was so vulnerable and Shane stilled for a moment just to breathe in the smell and drink in the sight of him, giving him time to adjust. With one hand, he kept a grip on Knight's waist, fingernails digging in until he left small half-moon indents. Bringing the other hand up to ruffle through the hair at the back of Knight's neck, he began to move, a gentle roll of his hips into the cradle of Knight's ass at first but soon picking up speed, pressing Knight into the mattress and eliciting choked grunts and breathless gasps.

With the slow drag and burn of Schofield moving inside of him, his cock rubbing into the cool damp of the sheets and the fire of his own body, Knight felt like he was drowning in glorious sensation, fanning the fire in the pit of his belly. When Schofield dragged his hips up so he could reach around to stroke Knight in time with his thrusts, he gained a whole new leverage and angle that saw him driving deeper and deeper into Knight until he found a spot that dragged a cry out of Knight and caused stars to spring up behind his eyes. The erratic strokes and relentless pace were enough to tell Knight that Shane wasn't far off the edge himself and with the next burst of light and heady pleasure, he gave his body over to the storm of sensations and came hard into Shane's clenched fist with a low groan.

Deep inside of Knight and able to feel every tiny shift of his body, the sensation of him clenching around his cock as he rode out of his orgasm was more than enough to drag Schofield along with him, burying himself in Knight and murmuring his name into the cooling sweat of his neck.

Pulling out and rolling away, Shane quickly disposed of the condom, tossing it into the bin with impeccable aim before turning back and running his fingers gently down the dull pink scratches he had left on Knight's side. Breathless and shaken to his core, Knight reached for his discarded t-shirt and used it to clean the worst of himself up before tossing it aimlessly back to the floor.

At that moment, as they lay side by side but not touching, breathing heavily, the sound of cries filled the small apartment. Wordlessly, Schofield held out a clenched fist with a groan and a quick game of scissors paper rock revealed that Knight would have to deal with the baby this time.

Knight stumbled out of the room, pulling on his boxers as he left, whilst Schofield simply rolled over and let out a sigh of relief.

If he was honest with himself, Shane was glad for Beth's impeccable timing as it drove out the need for any post-coital conversation that more likely than not would simply end with them fighting and Knight leaving once again. Instead, he was forced to confront all the reasons he needed to stay head on and also incidentally, meant he couldn't dwell on exactly what it was they had just done.

He gave himself a whole minute to just lie there and not worry about whether or not this developing, volatile thing between them would work out or not. Lying there, just breathing with one hand on his bare chest, moving with the rise and fall of his steady breaths, and staring at the ceiling until he finally had to give in and reluctantly reached for his own discarded underwear.  
He also dragged on his jeans for good measure, fabric rough against his sensitive skin.

Wandering into the kitchen, he found Knight hovering over the baby like any other anxious parent, trying to soothe her with a warm bottle. He leant against the door frame with his arms crossed across his bare chest and just watched them for a long moment, a small smile playing at his lips.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the sound of the doorbell broke the quiet moment and Schofield frowned in confusion. They weren't expecting anyone. Knight looked up from the baby, the same question in his eyes and Schofield shrugged before going to answer the door.

To his surprise, when he opened the door Shane found his grandparents standing on the doorstep, his Nan looking cheerful as always and his grandfather a little sheepish. They had spoken on the phone every day since their arrival in D.C. and his Nan in particular frequently popped over to check on the baby and give them a few hours break but never without warning. He was particularly aware of his crumpled clothes, tousled hair and the light sheen of sweat that covered his bare upper torso.

"Hi," he said, voice rising with surprise and sudden discomfort.

His grandfather raised a subtle eyebrow at his appearance and his Nan's eyes twinkled knowingly and so naturally, displaying the impeccable timing his daughter had clearly inherited, Knight chose that moment to wander out of the kitchen to ask who it was at the door still wearing naught but his threadbare boxes.

Schofield thought briefly about stepping out onto the landing – even half dressed, he was still better presented than Knight – and shutting the door behind them but his grandparents still wouldn't have been able to un-see the bounty hunter in his apartment, in his underwear. Instead, he shot a quick scowl at Knight who got the picture and made himself scarce without another word before passing a quick hand over his face, schooling his features into something resembling composed and ushered his grandparents in.

His Nan patted his cheek on her way past.  
Schofield lifted his eyes to the ceiling and uttered a silent, 'fuck.'

Nana Mae settled herself on the couch and pulled out her knitting whilst the two men hung awkwardly around the edges of the room. Knight came scampering back into the room – thankfully dressed this time.

Mae turned her gaze upon each of them in turn and said astutely, "You seem to be getting along just fine."

Shane groaned and slumped against the wall, a rare furious red colouring his cheeks.  
If he had looked, he would have seen an identical and even rarer blush spreading across Knight's.

"I'm going to take Beth for a walk," Knight announced, attempting to escape the situation but Mae shook her head slightly and patted the seat beside her.  
"Oh no, dear," She said all innocently, "come and sit with me. Old women like me thrive on a fresh ear to natter with. Shane and Mike can walk the baby."

All three men knew it for the order it was.

Which was how Shane Schofield found himself walking along the banks of the Potomac with his grandfather and daughter in tow, content to just watch the world go by. For a long while they walked in silence, until Michael Schofield put a large but gentle hand on the pram's handlebar, taking control of it from Shane and looking down at his great-granddaughter with immense pride written on every line of his face and she looked back up at him with the same curious fondness.

"She's growing real good," he said in his soft spoken drawl, "Gonna be a real looker, so you'd best keep a close eye on her, keep her outta trouble."

He winked exaggeratedly at the baby, half his mouth twisting into a broad smile and she showed him her empty gums in return.  
It was almost a smile.

"Did I tell you Aloysius wanted to name her after Nana? She's Bethany Mae," Shane replied equally softly but with pride in every syllable.

"That's real nice o'him," Michael replied, "You make sure to tell her that, she already thinks he's pretty darn special. Reckons he must be if he can win you."

Abruptly, he stopped the pram and looked hard at his grandson, scuffing the ground with his sneakers and refusing to meet his eyes. He cleared his throat.

"I got something to say," he said with simple honesty and Shane looked up in both fear and hope. He knew his grandpa's serious voice. "When I was a marine, they called me Mustang - "

"I know that Pop," Shane interrupted.

" – I know you know that, shut up boy," Michael replied without breaking beat. "They called me that 'cause I were a free spirit and didn't always follow the rules, like one of them damn wild horses and a bit like someone else I know. Now when I was a young lad, every man wanted himself a wife. Oh we knew there was some out there that didn't but we didn't talk about them and as long as they kept themselves to themselves, they were nobody's concern. Just let 'em get on with it. Nowadays we know there's men that like women, and men that like men and women that like women and just about everything in between. Those folks existed back when I was a lad too and I'm mighty glad you didn't have to grow up then cause it would've been real lonely and hard. I'm proud of you and everything you done and if this fella makes you happy, I ain't got no problem with that. Hell, now you've got a kid I reckon you got a responsibility to give it all you got with him, for her sake. I only want what's best for you. Reckon you can only truly understand that when you're a parent yourself. Now, we're booked on a plane back home tomorrow and before we go, all I want to know is, is this what you want and is he gonna treat you right?"

After a long moment of digesting his grandfather's words – Shane was fairly sure he hadn't heard his grandpa say that much in one go in many, many years – Shane looked up and met his faded blue eyes, so much like his own.

"Yeah, Pop," he replied, "this is what I want and we're going to make this work."

"So you've got your head all sorted out?" Michael pressed.

Shane nodded, "I think I do. Thanks Pop."

Michael Schofield just grunted by way of reply, returned to pushing the pram briskly.  
Shane Schofield jogged to catch up with him and smiled a small smile.

They returned to the apartment to find Knight squirming underneath the slight old lady's interrogation and just in time to hear her say loudly and articulately, "I've been doing some reading on these bisexuals and frankly my dear, I think it's wonderful."

Shane snuck past them, laughing a little to himself, to put Beth to bed and pointedly ignoring Knight's pleading glances.

After settling Beth, he finally decided to go and rescue Knight. In the living room, he found his grandfather watching the scene with the tight little smile that indicated he was amused. Personally, Shane had to agree. Anytime his grandmother's substantial wiles were being turned upon someone other than them was a highly amusing situation that should be exploited to its full potential.

But still, he felt sorry for Knight and he didn't exactly want to scare him off just yet.

"Nana," he cut across, "Why don't you guys drop back in the morning to say goodbye and I'll drive you to the airport."

It took a couple of minutes of fussing but he eventually managed to shoo the pair of them out the door, a brief reprieve until the next morning, and slumped against the couch next to Knight.

"I take it back," Knight said without looking at him. He still looked rather dazed. "Your grandpa isn't scary. Your nana on the other hand…"

Shane snuffed a laugh.  
"My Nan could make General McArthur eat his vegetables."

"Pretty sure General McArthur ate his vegetables," Knight retorted. "Gotta set a good example to those troops but still, the premise stands."

Beside him, Knight was already reaching for the pillow and blankets he had stashed beside the couch, his makeshift bed. After a week, it couldn't have been comfortable for his back though Shane supposed he had probably endured worse.  
Still.

"You know," he said hesitantly, "there's room in the bed for two."

Knight just smiled shyly back at him, dropped the pillow and let Schofield lead him back to the bedroom.

Flicking on the baby monitor and curling under the covers, Shane fell asleep to the sound of both Beth and Knight's steady breathing.


	16. Part 1: Chapter 16

**A/N: **Guys (and gals and everyone in between of course, using the term inclusively there), can I just say how thankful I am for all your support! When I first started writing this story over a year ago now, I was terrified about posting it 'cause I thought it was sure to attract flames and generally not be well liked. Instead, you've all overwhelmed me with your reviews and general wonderfulness. I don't really know how I can repay that but if you've got any ideas, anything you want to see in one of my stories for example, please feel free to message me and I'll have a go at it for you!

I guess what I'm trying to say is: thankyouthankyouthankyouthan kyou

Chapter 16

Shane Schofield awoke to the sensation of a dead arm and Knight's heavy body pressed against his own. His face was buried in the crook of Schofield's neck – blocking out the light - and one of his arms was flung across Schofield's chest, semi-pinning him to the bed. He could after all, have thrown it off but not without disturbing Knight so instead, he wrapped the dead arm as best he could around Knight's shoulders and pulled him that little bit closer despite the warmth of the morning.

It seemed strange to him that after all they had done, sleeping like this, together – just sleeping – felt by far the most intimate.

Not only did it demonstrate exactly how much Knight trusted him. With his condition, he wasn't so much putting his heart in Schofield's hands as his bare eyes and trusting him to shield him from the morning light. The very act of sleeping and only sleeping seemed to say that their relationship was built on more than just sex.

"Think we might have done this the wrong way round," Shane mused aloud and felt Knight stir against his shoulder.

"Wha'?" He said groggily.

"Well normally," Shane said thoughtfully, "people do the relationship, then the sex and then the baby part if they want. I'd say we got the order a little wrong."

"Shut up," Knight said fondly and entirely without bite. "Some of us were up half the night with the baby in question and are not in the mood for philosophy before breakfast."

Shane felt a small smile spread across his lips as he pressed them gently into Knight's unruly mop of black hair. They couldn't stay there all day, he had grandparents to drop off at the airport and a baby that would surely start demanding their attention soon but they could stay a little longer.

They might've started off on the wrong direction but it seemed they were on the right track now.

Of course, the scene was incomplete without Beth and sure enough, she only allowed them another ten minutes of peaceful dozing before she demanded their attention with a loud wail, causing both men to groan – Knight as he rolled out of bed and went to see to Beth; Schofield as the feeling returned to his dead arm.

Shane took himself to the kitchen and began to heat a bottle for Beth whilst Knight tried to settle her. He eventually followed with an armful of screaming infant, rocking her gently and saying in the gentlest, sappiest, most appropriate baby coo he could muster, a strange sound indeed to be coming from the mouth of Aloysius Knight, "You're a rotten little hell child aren't you? Yes you are you little demon spawn you."

Shane snorted as he handed the bottle over.  
"You're going to give her a complex if you keep that up," he said with a smirk.

Knight shrugged his shoulders but never took his eyes off the baby.  
"It doesn't matter what I call her," he continued in the same sing song voice, "as long as you say it with the right tone. I could call her the fucking child of Satan himself and she wouldn't know cause she doesn't understand yet, and even if she did, she won't remember any of this."

He finished off that proclamation with a raspberry, causing Beth to emit a squeal of laughter and spit her milk up all over the pair of them.

"Charming," Knight said dryly.

"I think that was your fault," Schofield retorted. "On a vaguely related topic, you have a nickname when you were a kid?"

Knight looked up at him.  
"Why?" He asked suspiciously, "I'm not volunteering information of that potentially volatile and embarrassing nature without good reason."

"Because," Shane said deadpan, "Aloysius is one heck of a mouthful when you're on the verge of coming."

Had Knight had a mouthful of anything – coffee, cornflakes – he too would have spit it out. Thankfully, as it was, he was too busy feeding Beth to think about feeding himself just yet.  
And besides, he had far too much control to have done anything like that anyway.  
But it would have been close.

"Let me see if I'm following your train of thought," he replied, "We went from discussing nicknames for our daughter – who is in the room might I add – to my childhood nickname, to you wanting a nickname for me to use during sex?"

"In all fairness, they were inappropriate nicknames for our daughter to begin with," Schofield retorted. His facial expression didn't give anything away as he sipped at a cup of coffee. His eyes however, were sparkling with laughter.

Every time Aloysius Knight thought he had Shane Schofield all wrapped up, the man managed to surprise him again – with his dry humour that snuck through his calm demeanour; with the way he could smile through his eyes without ever moving his lips and if he was wearing those blasted sunglasses, you'd never know; with the way he'd let the both of them into his carefully controlled life as though they'd always been missing.

Looking up from the baby in his arms, who having drunk her fill was pleasantly floppy and burping quietly, he smiled at him gently and without any trace of a smirk.  
"It was Albie," Knight said.

Shane laughed.  
He tried to contain it at first but it was soon spilling over and left him clutching at the bench, practically wiping tears from his eyes.

"What?" Knight replied trying to inject some affront into his voice but he was smiling too, "It happened to suit me at the time. I was just some kid with funny looking glasses."

Shane managed to regain control of himself long enough to pass Knight a cup of coffee without spilling any.

Knight nodded in thanks as he took the cup.  
"But," he said slowly, "when my grandma and I were alone, she used to bake a lot and I used to help her in the form of eating everything before it even touched the plate. Then I'd get sick and she'd tuck me into bed and read me a story. She called me Shush."

He smiled into the mug and took a scalding mouthful before looking up and meeting Schofield's eyes. Neither of them were prone to such intimate outbursts and so when they did occur, the other knew better than to push his luck by interrupting. They just took it in silence as the gift it was. When he did look up, he saw Shane smiling at him warmly, hands wrapped around his own mug. The laughter in his eyes had faded and been replaced with open fondness.

Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking through their quiet moment.

"That'll be the grandparents," Shane said, pouring the remains of his coffee down the drain and setting the mug on the drainer before shucking off the loose sleep pants he was wearing and pulling on a pair of jeans that had been left over the back of the couch – Knight felt the need to remind him that the dresser in his bedroom was actually designed for the purpose of storing clothes but managed to supress it – and went to let them in.

"Hey, I'll just be a moment," Knight heard him say as he came jogging back into the kitchen. He dropped a quick kiss to Beth's soft forehead and an even quicker one against Knight's surprised lips.

"See you later Shush," he said with a wink and was gone.

The trip to the airport was filled with his Nan's instructions – to take plenty of photo's because they'll want to remember all this later, to send those photo's to them, to remember both his own and the baby's check-up appointments, to try not to disturb Beth's rhythm too much now that she had finally seemed to find one and of course, to call them if they needed anything. Anything.

By the time they reached the airport, all the words were gone and Shane just let his Nana kiss his cheek and his grandpa fold him into his firm embrace.

"You'll come back for the christening?" He asked, voice almost lost over the bustle of the chatter of the busy airport and the clear announcer's voice, calling out for the ten o'clock to Yellowstone Regional Airport, Cody, Wyoming.

"Ooh now that reminds me, don't forget to send me her measurements closer to the date so I can make a gown," Mae called back as Michael Schofield steered her away before they missed the plane.

Shane just waved.

It didn't take him long to drive back to the apartment, the early morning traffic had well and truly passed through. Letting himself back in, he found Knight in the kitchen making something that smelt peppery and warm and all round delicious, and Beth on the floor waving her fat little fists in the air. He gladly scooped Beth us and accepted a bowl of the whatever it was Knight was cooking.

Together, the three of them dropped onto the couch, careful not to spill their lunch which looked like a think, rich soup. Knight passed him a spoon as he tried to balance the bowl on his lap and Beth nestled in his other arm.

"Well," he said, "I'm home."

**A/N Number 2: **I've decided to do this story in two or three parts. Here ends part number 1.


	17. Part 2: Chapter 17

**A/N: **I'm back with Part 2 and a brief note on the timeline for this fic: Beth is conceived at the end of November , between the events of Scarecrow and Hell Island. She's born at approximately 33 weeks, around 7 and ½ months gestation, ergo, she's born in July. July 2nd if you want to be exact.

This part is set in December of that year. So she's five months old now. Also, living in Australia, I am very confused by northern hemisphere seasons. It was sheer dumb luck that I wrote the weather in part 1 – set in July – as warm. Oh for a White Christmas. Actually, not really. I happen to like Christmas unbearably, stinking hot.

I've done a bit of research into infant developmental milestones and so by about this age, Beth should be smiling at people, reacting to voices, able to recognise her parents, grabbing things, exploring unfamiliar objects by eating them, tracking objects with her eyes, developing control over her limbs though she wouldn't yet be aware that they're actually a part of her hence why babies eat their fingers and toes (if they can reach them), making distinct noises with consonants and beginning to sit up with a bit of help. All of which I've included in this chapter.

Also, I've sort of been ignoring the mutant aspect of this fic. That's going to change, starting with this chapter. Just in case you've forgotten, Schofield's main mutation is actually to sense the future but it's not very strong, just a few seconds or so before things happen – which I thought tied in quite nicely as an explanation for his abnormally fast reflexes. Obviously, until this point, I've been dealing a lot more with his secondary mutation, the ability to conceive.

And as far as I can tell from my research into the genetics of x-men, mutations are passed on from the father's x chromosome which contains the 'x-gene' – it would be a lot more helpful if everything wasn't the 'x' something or other! If anyone who knows the comic books better than I do wants to correct me of that assumption, please feel free to do so. Though to be honest, since it's only pseudo-science from a science fiction universe, I'm not hugely concerned with accuracy here.

And I do know that Scott and Alex are meant to be brothers but the movie timeline makes that just about impossible, so I'm going with father and son.

I'm sorry, I did mean to get this finished by November but then November actually happened and it was a lot busier than I anticipated so thank you for your patience.

And this, I swear, was meant to be a short note.  
And then I started typing… sorry.

Chapter 17

On a cold morning in early December, just touched by the first of the winter frosts, a group of people had gathered in the small backyard of a small church on the banks of the river. Mostly, they huddled together for warmth, hands wrapped around polystyrene cups filled with steaming hot chocolate but despite the chill, smiles were plastered across each face.

At ten months old, little John Riley had recently found his feet and was toddling unsteadily across the lawn, the frosty grass crackling beneath his small booted feet.  
And following close behind was a rather nervous looking Book II.

Knight, holding Beth, had a bunch of the younger marines – Astro, Rebound and Skip – gathered around him laughing as he knelt down to the ground and carefully arranged Beth's chubby legs under her so that with the aid of one large hand on her back, she was able to sit, albeit a little wobbly.

"This is her latest trick," he said proudly, supporting her as the marines watched with amusement, "Sit."

"Al," Shane said chidingly, "She's a baby, not a puppy."

Beth, her christening gown complemented with thick white tights and matching hand knitted bonnet and booties - courtesy of one Nana Schofield – swivelled at the sound of his voice and bestowed upon Schofield a beaming gummy smile. She had learnt that particular new skill a few weeks past but every time she turned it upon him, Shane was blown away.

"Gah, bah," Beth agreed, sounding like she too was telling her silly father off.

Knight thought briefly about letting her drop onto her stomach and demonstrate her now highly developed ability to roll over. Thankfully, she had finally learnt how to roll back from her stomach onto her back and with the development of her arm and neck strength, she was now able to prop herself up on her arms and support her own head whilst lying on her stomach; which meant she no longer chocked on mouthfuls of carpet every time she rolled herself over as she'd been doing practically since the day she'd been born.

"Don't even think about it," Shane said, strolling over to scoop Beth up before she toppled over and Knight had to wonder if Shane simply knew him too well now or if he was starting to use his other mutation deliberately.

As he took her back to the small table where Mother and Juliet were chatting animatedly with Schofield's grandparents, Knight's question was answered. Shane had balanced Beth on his hip and as soon as she was in reach of the table – laden with an urn filled with hot water and the various supplies needed for tea, coffee and hot chocolate – she had closed her fingers around a sugar packet and was moving it towards her mouth. Without breaking his conversation, Shane took the packet from her hand, returned it to its bowl and shifted Beth to his other hip, out of reach of the table.

"Did you know she was going to do that?" Mother asked, dumbstruck.

"Nah," Shane said, shaking his head. "She's just at that age where she puts everything she can reach in her mouth."

Juliet looked at him curiously, "Think you'll be up to predicting the end of the world anytime soon? I'm interested to know if the Mayans were right."

Schofield snuffed a laugh.  
"I don't think so. I've been doing a bit of training with Jean but the best I can manage at the moment is about a minute if I'm concentrating really hard. She reckons I could probably work on some telepathy or telekinesis as well since these sorts of mental mutations tend to go together."

"Cause that's just what we need," Mother growled, "A boss that can actually read our minds."

Jean Grey hadn't been able to make it to the service – she and the other X-men were causing Shane to rethink his definition of 'saving the world' – but to his surprise, one of the other mutants, Alex Summers, the guy who had visited Schofield in the hospital, one of the guys like himself, had come to the christening and what's more, he'd brought his son with him.

Kevin had also tagged along with them but where Kevin was outgoing, happily chatting away with the adults he knew as well as those he didn't and chasing little John around the yard, Scott Summers was shy. He hung around Alex's legs and didn't say a word. He was also wearing a thick pair of sunglasses with red tinted lenses that he seemed uncomfortable with if the way he was fiddling with their edges was any indication.

"His mutation manifested a few weeks ago," Alex had confided in a whisper meant only for Schofield's ears. "It took us a few weeks to work it out but the glasses help control it. It was pretty damn painful for him and I felt like a shitty dad. Thought he could use some time out here to just be a normal kid again."

Shane supressed a wince. From the day Beth was born, he'd been thinking about if he had passed on the mutation gene to her and if so, what would happen to her. When he'd voiced those concerns to Jean, she had gently told him that the mutation was carried on his X-chromosome. Beth of course, had one X-chromosome from him and one from Knight, ergo she would develop mutant powers at some point. But more than that, his own mutation was more than smart enough to only ever pass on his X-chromosome in order to prevent him conceiving a child with two Y-chromosomes which would never survive. So no matter what, any child of his was going to be a mutant but until he saw Scott Summers, painfully shy and scared of his own mutation, and heard Alex Summers describe the fear and pain it had put him through, Schofield hadn't fully understood the implications.

He crouched down so he could look Scott in the eye through the lenses of both their glasses.  
"Hey there," Shane said easily, "Do you think you could play with Beth here for a while?"

Scott nodded with a small smile and taking the baby, he sat down on the nearest bench and started up a game of peek-a-boo.

"Thanks for that," Alex said evenly. "He woke up a few weeks ago and blasted a hole through his bedroom roof and right through the several floors above that as well. After that, he didn't think anyone would trust him again."

"No problem," Shane replied as both children giggled together.

Alex Summers wasn't the only unexpected guest. Michael and Mae Schofield had also made the journey back from Wyoming. Whilst Michael Schofield hung around the edges looking intimidating and taking a thousand and one photos, Mae Schofield happily chatted to anyone and pushed cups of tea into any empty hands she saw.

But most importantly, to Knight at least, was the unexpected guest in the form of a large bearded pilot. Knight didn't have a lot of friends and whilst most of the people who had attended the christening were almost as fond of him as they were of Schofield, it didn't change the fact that at the end of the day, they were Shane's friends first.

And equally, Rufus liked Shane but he was here for Knight.  
Just like always.

"You made it," Knight said quietly, gripping Rufus's hand in a firm handshake.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Rufus replied. "After all, I am the godfather."

Then, Rufus had strode off to greet Shane and happily accepted the baby for his first cuddle with her.

"Hello beautiful," he cooed at Beth before turning his attention back to Schofield to say seriously. "I dunno if too many people have told you congratulations but I'll say it from me 'cause she's a right blessing."

"Thanks Rufus," Shane said quietly.

It was true, in all the chaos of Beth's surprise arrival and his own first few terrifying days as a parent, there hadn't been a lot of people that had actually offered their congratulations. Plenty who had offered their help and support but nobody who seemed overjoyed that she was simply alive in the same way that people were for an anticipated baby.

Surprisingly, it was Rufus who managed to cause the only consternation for the day. He pulled Shane aside just moments before the service was to start and warned him in no uncertain terms that if he broke Knight's heart or not often given trust, Beth would have to grow up with one less father.  
Unfortunately, he did so in Mother's earshot.

Normally, Mother and Rufus got on just fine but even more than they were friends, they were fiercely loyal to their respective leaders.

"Now wait just one second," Mother retorted, "I don't think Scarecrow here is likely to be the culprit if there's any heart-breaking going on. Knight's the one that ran away 'cause he couldn't handle it."

"And Shane's the one who didn't tell Aloysius what was going on," Rufus replied evenly.

"And they're both grown up men who can sort out their own problems," Knight cut in, strolling casually up to them and dropping a heavy hand on each of their shoulders, the gesture just on the friendly side of threatening. "No shovel talks necessary."

"From either of you," Shane added with a pointed look at Mother.

The rest of the service had gone off without a hitch. Beth squirmed a little when the cold water actually touched her forehead but other than that, she was generally a happy baby, curious about anything and anyone that came into her line of sight. She cooed happily when Shane handed her over to the minister, making baby babbling sounds throughout the service.

And so it was that Bethany Mae Schofield was christened five months to the day after her surprise arrival in the world.

Not of course, without some trouble. Shane and Aloysius had argued extensively over whose surname Beth would take.

Knight had attempted to argue that since he was fulfilling the traditional father role in this whole set up, Beth should take his last name.

If the look he had received in return wasn't enough to make him quail, then Shane's suggestion that if he wanted a child with his last name then perhaps it should be his body on the line certainly was.

But at the end of the day, it didn't really matter. It had said Bethany Schofield on her birth certificate for months now. It might've taken him a while to get the paperwork done but at least - unlike Knight -he got the paperwork done at all.

The group remained gathered until the sun began to sink and the temperature dropped rapidly with it. Buck and Juliet were the first to leave with little John sound asleep on Buck's shoulder. Other than Bigfoot – who had his own wife and kids to get home to – the rest of the marines were headed out for what would surely be a wild night on the town.

"Oh for that life again," Book II said a little wistfully before he left, looking at the others as they argued over where to go. "The only thing I'm dancing to is the Wiggles and drinking chocolate milk. Do you miss it?"

"Not for the world," Shane said, rubbing little John's back soothingly.

Book II snorted, "Give it time."

The corners of Shane's lips quirked like he was trying not to laugh.  
"We'll organise a playdate then," he said, "See if we can't make your life a little more exciting."

Book groaned playfully.  
"God, playdates. I can't believe we're entering this stage of life. And don't ever offer to make my life more exciting. Things explode when you say things like that. I don't know how, but they explode."

Shane said goodbye and went over to retrieve Beth from Scott, who'd been quietly playing with her all afternoon. How Alex was planning on getting Scott and Kevin back to Westchester in time for dinner, Shane didn't know but Alex didn't seem concerned. All he said was "Kurt'll pick us up."

"Hey Scott," he said with a warm smile. "Thanks for playing with Beth but I think I should take her home now, she's getting pretty tired."

Beth it seemed, wasn't the only one as Scott let out a large yawn, nodded and handed Beth back.

"Maybe she could come with me next time I visit the school and you could play with her then?" Shane said.

Scott's reply was barely a whisper but it was there.  
"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," Shane replied, ruffling the boy's hair with one hand. "Now you'd better run off, I think your dad's looking for you."

As Scott did just that, Shane wandered around to say goodbye to the remaining people. He promised Mother and Ralph that he and Knight would come round for dinner one evening soon and posed for one last photo with his grandparents. By which point, Beth was asleep in his arms with one little hand curled tight around his neck.  
Beth, he'd discovered, was a big cuddler and Shane didn't mind that one bit.

When he'd made the last rounds, Shane took Beth back to the car where Knight was waiting for them both with his arms crossed and a small smile playing at his lips. Knight opened the door for them and Shane leant over to try and plug Beth into her car seat. Despite her tiredness, she struggled a little as he threaded her arms and legs through the securing belts but as soon as she was firmly strapped in, her eyes were drifting shut and she was falling back into sleep. As he stood back up, a sharp slice of pain shot through his lower back, a remnant from Beth's surprise arrival. It hadn't bothered him now for a few months but seemingly out of nowhere this week it had decided to make a return. Shane chalked it up to pushing himself too hard at work – after nearly two months of forced recuperation time at home, Jean had finally seen fit to allow him to return to active service and perhaps he hadn't eased himself back in as gently as he could have.

Not for nothing was Knight one of the world's best bounty hunters. He was intelligent – more than most people gave him credit for – and perceptive. He could read the momentary flash of pain across Shane's face no matter how well he concealed it and gently laid one large hand across the small of his back, the epicentre of the pain, his thumb rubbing small circles into the sore spot.

"Looks like Beth's not the only one who needs to go to bed," Knight said softly as he stole the key from out of Shane's hand.

Meanwhile, Skip had dashed across the yard to Mother with a mischievous smirk.

"Do you think they're together, like together, together?" She asked Mother curiously. "Or is it just for the baby? Maybe they're just fucking. I'd fuck either one of them, I'm really not picky."

The two women might not have caught Shane's moment of pain but they definitely didn't miss the hand Knight carefully placed on his back to soothe it. They didn't hear the words Knight said to Schofield but they did see the looks on both of their faces so that for that moment, both women felt like they were intruding on something private.  
Which for the two most notorious gossips on the entire base, was saying something.

Nonetheless, they watched as the little family drove away.

"Well, I reckon that just about answers that question," Mother said.


	18. Part 2: Chapter 18

**A/N: **On a completely unrelated note, The Presidian group on facebook (a big MR fan page) are holding a writing contest! If you know me personally, I've probably already bugged you about joining in so now I'm going to bug all of you that I don't know personally to join in as well! If you've been lurking around in this fandom for a while, this is a great opportunity to jumpstart your writing. The people involved will all be encouraging and you will get to read – as well as write – a lot of great fics. If the boost to your writing isn't enough for you, you'll make new friends and your fandom experience will be much richer for it! Promise! I lurked for years, trust me, it's better with friends.

I guess this could almost count towards it hey? It's Christmassy! But no, I'll produce something else for it!

Also, I really hate writers block. It's short but I really like this chapter. Fluff, fluff and so much fluff! Let me know what you think!

Chapter 18

When they pulled into the small garage at the base of what had ostensibly become their apartment – it was still Schofield's name on the lease but Knight's clothes and cooking apparatus had moved in as well, it seemed a fair bargain - Beth was still sound asleep. Getting her out of her car seat, Shane handled her like he would a particularly volatile bomb and so fortunately, by the time they had made their way up the elevator, through the front door and laid her in her cot, she was still asleep.

Knight had followed behind them like a mostly-trained guard dog but when Shane dropped a quick kiss on Beth's warm forehead and turned to go, he found he was alone in the little nursery.

Padding softly back into the lounge, he found Knight standing in the centre of the room with his arms crossed across his chest, staring seriously at an empty corner.

"What are you doing?" Shane asked, resting his chin on Knight's shoulder and pressing his lips into the soft skin below his ear.

"The Christmas tree should go there," Knight said solemnly.

"Sure," Shane agreed, a little puzzled, "But I haven't got one."

Abruptly, he stepped back from Schofield so he could look him in the eyes – or at least, as in the eyes as he could through both their layers of sunglasses. To the untrained eye, he would have seemed unchanged but Schofield could see the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and how his eyes flickered from Shane's own to the empty corner and back again. If it wasn't for his distinctly battle hardened posture and scars, he might have looked like a small boy asking to keep a stray he'd found in the street – and worried that he'd be told no.

"Can we have a real one?" He asked.

"Yeah, if you want," Shane replied. "But you're responsible for making sure Beth doesn't eat the needles if and when they fall off."

"Great," Knight said, already reaching for his parka. "Let's go then."

"What, now?" Shane asked with raised eyebrows.

"Well, yeah," Knight replied, parka on and already half way out the door.

Taken aback a little at the sudden display of enthusiasm, Schofield too reached for a parka. As the sun had disappeared, the temperature had plummeted and the lightest dustings of snow were starting to fall.

"Okay," he agreed, "I'll just ask Mrs Phipps to mind Beth for a while. There's a boy scouts with Christmas trees the next block over."

Shane almost missed what Knight said next.  
"No," he said, so quietly. "Not the boy scouts."

Shane paused in the process of pulling the parka on, one arm in one sleeve and the other still hanging.  
"Why not?"

Knight dropped his gaze to stare determinedly at the floor, refusing to meet Schofield's inquiring eyes but he cleared his throat and when he spoke, it was clear and back to his normal volume.

"They kick out gay kids," he said.

Shane struggled to hold back a smile that would have otherwise split his face. Instead, he settled for pulling on the warm jacket a little more enthusiastically then he had before.  
"So not the boy scouts then," he said lightly. "We'll just walk until we find somewhere else."

Ten minutes later, they had the lovely Mrs Phipps set up in their living room with a cup of tea and the baby monitor and promised to be back before ten o'clock. The elderly lady who lived across the hall from them was more than happy to play babysitter. After all, those nice young boys – as she called them – had cable TV.

In the end, they went a good deal further than they meant to, meandering through the streets until they found a small lot on the edge of town, owned by a farmer who had driven up from Virginia to sell his trees.

Together, they wandered up and down the rows of bushy, green trees under the moonlight in search of the perfect one. With the light snow just clinging to the tips of their branches and the festive lights hanging from nearby buildings, the place was idyllic and it was hard not to be in the mood for celebrating.

"So," Shane said, pulling in close to Aloysius and hip checking him gently. "Why the sudden Christmas spirit?"

"Just haven't had a family Christmas in a long time," Knight replied honestly.

In the crisp night air, Shane slipped his hand into Aloysius's warm one, half expecting him to shake it off. Although he'd made great progress, Knight wasn't often okay with contact in the public's eye so naturally Shane made a point to touch him every opportunity he got – a firm hand on his shoulder, a gentle nudge, the briefest of kisses anywhere but his lips.  
Baby steps.

But in the almost deserted lot and screened from view by the thick surrounding trees, Knight squeezed back.

"Me neither," Shane confessed, "Mother tries to make time to have a beer with me every Christmas but she's got her own big extended family to get back to. Other than that, my grandparents live on the other side of the country, my dad hated my guts and my mum's been dead since I was a teenager. So I spent a lot of Christmas's alone. What's your excuse?"

"I haven't seen my parents since I was thrown out of Delta," Knight replied. "The FBI moved them a little while later, claiming it was for their own safety but I never did manage to track down their new contact details. I don't even know if they're alive."

Shane stopped dead in his tracks.  
"I'm sorry," he said simply.

Knight shrugged, the ghost of a smile twisting his lips.  
"Don't be. It's for the best. They probably wouldn't like what I've done with my life since then."

Shane tugged on his hand.  
"Won't know until you ask them," he said.

"Because it's every parent's dream for their child to become a paid assassin, right?" Knight replied derisively.

"Well," Shane replied slowly as they started to stroll again, "Arguably I do the same thing. I kill people and get paid to do it, the only difference is it's my country telling me who to kill, and my grandparents are pretty proud of me. You don't know what they're thinking. They'd probably just be glad to know you're safe and well."

"I can spot a few other differences," Knight said chuckling, "like the difference in the amount we get paid."

Shane was about to reply when Knight spoke over him.  
"We should invite Mother and Ralph over for Christmas. I wouldn't want to deprive Mother of your beer together," he said, changing the subject abruptly.

Shane knew when to drop it, so he replied; "Add Buck and Juliet to that list as well then. We'll make it a proper party."

They walked on in silence for a while, until Shane stopped. His hand still grasped firmly in Knight's, pulling Knight to a stop as well.

"What about that one?" He asked, pointing to one over Knight's shoulder.

At an even two meters, the tree was just a little taller than Knight. It wasn't overly large – after all, they didn't have the largest of spaces to put it in – but it would fill the corner nicely and the branches hung heavy with dark green needles that glinted in the moonlight. Knight gave it a firm shake and not too many of the needles fell off. It looked full and healthy so together, they lugged the tree back to the vendor, thanked him and handed over the money.

It took them a good deal longer however, to carry it back to the apartment.

"Next time," Shane said, "We go somewhere closer."

"Who says there will even be a next time?" Knight replied through gritted teeth as they tried to wrestle it into the elevator.

"This was your idea," Schofield reminded him, leaning on the tree once they had got it in.

Once they managed to drag the tree into the apartment itself, they propped it up against the sofa whilst Shane thanked Mrs Phipps and Aloysius went to check on Beth. Finally, she was starting to sleep more settled throughout the night. She still woke up for a midnight feeding but thankfully, through sheer perseverance; they had managed to cut her down to one.

She had only just reached the supposedly magical weight of eleven pounds which meant she no longer needed the night time feedings to build up weight but nonetheless, she enjoyed them and it had been hard to get her to settle again without a full stomach. Some quick research on the subject had told them that feeding her a larger meal before bed and getting her into a solid night-time routine would help. Like Pavlov's dogs, Beth had finally learnt that a warm bath and a story were signals that it was time to go to sleep. Tonight however, she had fallen asleep in the car and they had missed their little routine. So both Schofield and Knight were anticipating a very grumpy little girl to be waking up in a few hours.  
Those few hours would give them plenty of time to put up the Christmas tree.

Knight found a sharp knife to make a fresh cut at the base, allowing it to absorb water, whilst Shane dug out an old stand and filled it to the brim. Together, they set it up in the corner Knight had chosen.

"It looks great," Shane said, stifling a yawn.

"You got any decorations?" Knight asked, apparently still wide awake and running on sheer Christmas spirit.

Shane almost groaned.  
"Tomorrow," he said as he steered Knight towards bed. "And it's your turn to feed Beth."


	19. Part 2: Chapter 19

**A/N: **Happy end of the world everybody! I was rather hoping to get this story finished but I suppose if the world ends, this will be the last chapter. If on the other hand, the Mayans were wrong, the last chapter for part 2 should be up in the next few days.

But don't worry too much, no one who's predicted the end of the world has been right yet!

Chapter 19

Tomorrow came far too quickly. By the cold clear light of early morning, Shane Schofield slipped from his bed and dressed as quietly as he could. Knight had been up most of the night with Beth, who had woken up screaming several times throughout the night and refused to go back to sleep without a meal and a long cuddle. Shane pulled on a thick jumper and paused only to brush his lips briefly against Knight's temple, careful not to wake him. He stuck his head into the nursery to check that Beth was still sleeping now before heading out into the cold morning.

At the base of the building, a shadowy man was lurking. He was wearing a long, dark trench coat and a cap pulled low over his face. No matter how many times they told him he was just as conspicuous wearing them as without, the man would insist.

"Morning Kurt," Schofield said under his breath as he walked round the corner.

Kurt moved quickly, one hand wrapping around Schofield's bicep, revealing skin the colour of ink and covered in swirling, mystic tattoos.

Then they were gone in a flash of dark smoke.

As the sights of Westchester materialised around them, Kurt said in his quiet lilt, "Guten Morgen, Captain."

If possible, Westchester was even colder than Washington D.C. and so the pair hurried into through the elegant gardens towards the towering mansion that housed Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and the five hundred odd mutants that lived there.

As they walked through the front entrance, the students were streaming through the corridors, headed for their first classes of the day. One young boy was disappearing and rematerializing every few feet ahead – whether it was to beat the traffic or just because he could wasn't clear – whilst a younger girl tripped over her own tail. In the mess of students, an older girl carrying a heavy book on ethics appeared suddenly beside Schofield through what was an adamantly solid wall and walked right into him.

Shane brought his arms up to brace hers to stop her from falling.  
He didn't even flinch when the book fell from her arms and straight onto his foot.

"Nice to see you too, Kitty," Shane said with a grimace.

"Sorry, Shane," the girl said as she scooped the book back up and hurried into the crowd but her eyes were shining with suppressed giggles.

"Hi and bye!" She called out cheerfully over her shoulder as she was swallowed up by the throng of students.

Kurt too vanished into the depths of the building, leaving Schofield to make his way down to the lowest levels himself. Down here, there was no elegant oak panelling and antique furniture. The walls were sleek steel and bare. It was actually this environment that Schofield was more comfortable in. Whilst certainly higher spec than any ship he'd ever served on, the impersonal steel felt familiar to him, like coming home at the end of a long day.

He found Jean in one of the smaller training rooms, right at the end of the long corridor. She looked up from the table she was working on and flashed him a blinding smile.

Holding out a blindfold, she said without preamble, "I thought we'd try with this today."

From the corner of the room, a gruff voice answered, "kinky."

Casting his eyes over, Shane was unsurprised to find the deep gravelly voice belonged to Logan, better known as Wolverine. They'd been sparring together for a few weeks now, with Jean encouraging him to try and predict Logan's moves before he made them.

"You're relying too much on your external senses," Jean said matter of factly, handing Schofield the blindfold. "So we take them out of the equation, starting with your eyes."

Shane quirked an eyebrow questioningly – he wasn't overly confident about going up against a mutant with healing abilities, savage claws and few scruples blindfolded – but shucked his glasses and covered his eyes anyway. The last thing he saw was Logan's imposing physique and the feral way he smiled.

Logan growled.

Schofield smirked.  
"Bring it."

He felt Logan's first lunge and ducked instinctively. A heavy arm swung over his head. Shane brought a leg out quickly in an effort to swipe Logan off his feet but with the benefit of sight, Logan easily evaded it.

Logan had never been light on his feet and Shane could hear his heavy tread on his left. Instinctively, he swung towards the scuffle of boots on the floor but light on his feet or not, Logan dodged it comfortably. Frustrated, Schofield swung a flurry of blows towards the sounds of Logan's breathing but they too met empty air as Logan danced around them.

Ducking and weaving without sight to orientate him left Schofield dizzy and straining to find the larger man in the dark. Like an animal, Logan could practically sense his weakness and punished him with a crunching blow against his ribs. What Logan lacked in agility and technique, he more than made up for with sheer brute strength. The blow was withering and left Schofield gasping for breath. A second one into his jaw sent him to his knees.

"Enough," Jean called.

Pulling the blindfold off, Shane saw a gnarled hand hovering in front of his face. He gladly accepted and let Logan pull him to his feet. Both men were breathing heavily.

Jean was hunched over a notepad.  
"You're still focussing on trying to find him," she said. "If you'd just stop trying you'd realise you already know. Now, again."

Grudgingly, Shane pulled the blindfold back on but this time, he tried harder to block out the sounds around him – Logan's ragged breathing, the scratch of Jean's pencil against the paper – and instead focussed on his own heartbeat. As he tuned in on the steady rhythm, he felt his mind clear and fill instead with purpose.

It seemed like in his peripheral vision, he could see Logan's muscled arm straining as he sought to land another punishing blow, this time aimed at his head. The image was strangely blurred and distorted, and he knew he couldn't really be seeing it because he couldn't see anything.  
But still, he instinctively ducked under the blow a split second before he felt the wave of air passing over his head.

He was calmer now, in control. He could sense Logan's turn seconds before he heard the squeak of his shoes on the floor. This time, he was ready for it and was already in position when Logan spun to launch another blow. This time, his own fist connected hard with Logan's nose and he felt the ripples of the delicate cartilage breaking in his mind before he felt it beneath his fingers.

Logan let out a mangled yell and a curse and Shane went flying backwards, out of reach of those claws.

"Better," Jean said encouragingly, "Much better."

Pulling the blindfold off, Shane saw Jean beaming at him and even Logan's usual scowl had a fond gleam to it. He'd already reset his nose with a sharp crunch and there was no sign to say it had ever been broken.

"I think that's enough for today," Jean said, flipping her book shut and patting his shoulder deftly on her way out the door.

Schofield had to admit, he was relieved for the reprieve. The mental exertion required left him physically exhausted even as his mind was buzzing with exhilaration.

"I'll buy you a beer, kid," Logan said as he swaggered out of the training room.

"It doesn't count if you steal it from Cyclops' stash, Logan," Shane called after his retreating back. "And I've not been a kid for a while now."

"You're all kids to me," Logan retorted, "kid."

Shaking his head, he grabbed his sunglasses and followed both of them out the door.  
Aloud, to himself, he said "Who the hell drinks beer before breakfast?"

With all the students in lessons, the mansion grounds were markedly different. The halls were beautifully decorated and steeped in history whilst the gardens were spacious and luscious.  
Here there was room for every student's struggles and dreams.

Slowly, Shane meandered through the grounds to the particular old willow tree which within its branches Kurt preferred to think. He could have scaled the tree with ease and joined Kurt there but today's training had taken more out of him than he had anticipated. His body ached all over and he was strangely tired. With hindsight, his midnight jaunt with Knight across the city in search of the perfect Christmas tree probably hadn't been the best idea.

As he approached, he could hear the low murmur of whatever lyrical melody Kurt was repeating to himself but the sound ceased once as soon as he was in sight. Dropping from the tree to land in front of him, Kurt offered an arm and with another flash of smoke, they were back in Shane's neighbourhood, at the base of his building, trying to not look conspicuous with a man with blue skin and a trench coat.

Before he went home though, Schofield decided to make a quick detour via the local shops. He stopped only long enough to pick up some fresh croissants for breakfast from the bakery and a box from an odds and ends shop he passed on his way home, thinking it might bring a smile to Knight's face.

Letting himself into the apartment, the first thing he saw was Beth, rolling on her play-mat and chewing on her toes. When she saw him, she gurgled happily. Shane put the bags down on the table and scooped her up, breathing in the scent of baby soap. Her warm little body snuggled into his chest immediately, one hand curling around his neck whilst the other reached immediately for his glasses. He let her pull them off as he looked around the room for Knight, who wasn't immediately obvious until the tree in the corner shook slightly. Peering around, he saw Knight hanging a few more ornaments around the back. He'd clearly been busy as well this morning.

In fact, he'd spent several hours digging through the cupboards until he'd found some ancient looking wooden ornaments and a packet of gaudy baubles that had never been opened.  
Naturally, he's spent the better part of the morning hanging them on the tree.

"It looks great," Shane said, still smiling as Beth jammed her fingers in his mouth. "But it needs something else."

Shifting Beth onto his hip, he reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the box of Christmas lights.

Knight just smiled.

As Shane handed them over, his stomach growled loudly and he reached for the bag of fresh pastries, still warm from the oven.  
"Also, breakfast," he said sheepishly.

Together, they devoured the first lot of warm flaky pastry. As soon as Shane reached for a second one, Beth, who was sitting supported on his lap, made grabby hands towards it. Smiling at her, he kissed the top of her head, now covered thickly in downy black hair but held the food high out of her reach.

"Sorry bub," he said, "the doctor says you can't start solid foods until you put on a bit more weight."

At an even eleven pounds – still a little underweight for her age group - Beth needed to gain a good four more pounds before she would be allowed to start eating solids but given the way she was eyeing off their every meal, she was eager for it.

Chuckling at the both of them, Knight grabbed the lights and made to string them around the tree whilst Shane finished off his breakfast.

When he was finished, Shane brought Beth over and let her down onto the floor in front of the tree. She had just begun to reach for an ornament on a lower hanging branch when Knight flicked the switch to turn the lights on. They immediately began to sparkle brightly, flashing different colours and Beth was momentarily stunned but the expression on her face quickly passed from shock to delight and abandoning the ornament that had caught her attention, her small hand reached instead for the lights.

Shane was laughing at her antics but a peculiar expression crossed Aloysius' face.

His eyes flickered from Beth –  
To the tree -  
To Shane –

Before he blurted out, "I think I love you."

He said it with such a look of surprise on his face – as though the feeling had snuck up on him without him realising it – that Shane took one look at him and laughed even harder.

Which was probably the wrong response as Knight turned suddenly away from him as if to leave the room.

Shane flung out an arm and grabbed him around the wrist, pulling him back whilst he raised his other hand to trace the line of Knight's jaw.

"Hey, listen to me," he said, holding Knight reassuringly tight, "I love you. I'm so in love with you."

He punctuated each word by pulling Knight a little closer until their lips brushed with every word before kissing Knight properly, pouring as much force and feeling into the kiss as he could and it was only when Aloysius brought his own hand up to tangle in the short hair at the back of his neck did Shane let his own hands fall away from Knights face and run down his shirt.

"Do you believe me?" Shane asked, pulling back.

Knight leant in and bit him hard on his lip, bringing a rosy swell of blood to the surface.  
"I believe you."

Knight moved towards him in an effort to press their bodies flush but Shane stepped back, a playful smirk in place.

"Not in front of the baby," he whispered against Knight's cheek and tugging on his shirt collar. "Why don't you put her down for a nap and then we'll take it from there. I've just got to make a phone call."

"Now?" Knight protested, fingers already curled around Schofield's belt loops but Shane just pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of Knight's mouth and disappeared out onto the small, noisy and almost never used balcony, shutting the door firmly behind him. He waited until he saw Knight grudgingly pick up Beth and head towards the nursery, no doubt muttering curses all the way before pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial button.

Shaking his head briefly to rid it of some of the lust induced fog, he spoke into the receiver.  
"Mr Fairfax? It's Shane Schofield. I need a favour."


	20. Part 2: Chapter 20

**A/N: **Here's the chapter that was meant to be out by boxing day at the latest… oops.

This is the last chapter in part 2 and also my last update for a while. I'm off on holidays for a month round the bottom of South America and I won't have internet access, so I'll be doing my writing the old fashioned way – pen and paper. When I get back in February, you can expect something from me pretty quick cause I'll have to get my submission for the Presidian Christmas Challenge up by the 5th. I should probably also let you know that this may well be the last update for Little Wonders for quite a while. For some reason I haven't yet fathomed, this story has been really draining and seeing as we've reached the end of a part, I might take a little break from it. I've had a lot of interest in the third piece in my Confessions/Complications series and so I'll hopefully be back with the first couple of chapters of that in February too. This story is definitely not abandoned because I'm excited for the third part – it actually has a plot! – and who knows, maybe the muse will strike and there won't be a break after all. I did start writing this in South America last year, so maybe going back will give me the kick up the butt I need…

Did any of that make sense? I feel like I'm rambling. Here's the condensed version: Going away for a month, might take a break from LW, will definitely be back with a Christmas piece and either another few chapters of LW or the first few chapters of Interludes (details of which are on my profile). Let me know which one you'd prefer – it really does make a difference, when other people are enthusiastic about what I'm writing, it makes me enthusiastic as well and thus more likely to write it!

There may or may not be two sweaters referenced in this chapter. The first one is an absolutely gorgeous pattern by tin can knits called the snowflake sweater. Google it if you want to see a picture, not sure my descriptions quite do it justice. I am going to make this sweater at some point!  
There is no explanation possible for the second one, I'm sorry. Knight has bad taste.

And Happy New Year!

Chapter 20

Christmas, it seemed, snuck up on them very fast that year.

Time was moving in odd dollops. One minute they were poking through toy stores, trying to choose something appropriate for Book's son – and despite Knight's protests, a miniature _working_ replica of a tank was not appropriate for a one year old – and arguably having more fun than many of the children therein.  
The next, they were both tangled in what felt like miles of sticky tape and brightly coloured wrapping paper. Neither Shane nor Aloysius had a great deal of wrapping experience so it was far from expert but they made it through with all their fingers still attached and under their first family tree, the lights sparkled merrily off the perhaps excessive tape.  
Barely seconds passed before it was Christmas Eve and in no time at all, sunlight was peeping under the curtains and Knight was shaking Schofield awake.

"You know," Shane groaned as the hand on his shoulder retreated, "I don't being woken up before dawn by the baby but it's a bit much from you."

Without opening his eyes, Shane could feel Knight's hands rumpling his unruly hair. Then the light touch disappeared and he yelped suddenly as the sheets were pulled off with unnecessary vigour, exposing his bare skin to the cold morning air.

"You can't get up before the sun does," he mumbled, repeating something his grandfather had said on many a Christmas morning as he tried to coax a few more hours sleep out of an excited small boy.

"Ah but the sun is up," Knight replied, throwing the curtains open and flooding the room with light. "So no excuses for you."

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Shane finally opened them and instantly brought a hand up to shield them from the bright morning sun. Knight had already pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants and a thick sweater. Next to him, Shane's exposed skin had already begun to pebble from the cold. Pushing away the crumpled sheets still clinging around his feet, he reached for his discarded pyjama pants and an oversized hoodie as he followed Knight out the door, smiling reluctantly.  
The enthusiasm was contagious.

Whilst Knight headed towards the kitchen, Shane stopped off at Beth's bedroom.

She was awake but babbling happily to herself, no mean feat given that she had one of her feet once again jammed into her mouth.

Shane lifted her out of the crib and deposited her wriggling body on the change table. He tried unsuccessfully to tug the foot away from her mouth but her grip was like iron and she was reluctant to give up her prize. Her small jaws clamped down and as Shane pulled the foot away, she was left with one sock clenched between her gums.

"One of these days," Schofield said as he wrestled her out of her onesie to change her diaper, "You're going to get teeth and then when you try to eat yourself, it's going to hurt and then maybe finally you'll realise these are a part of you."

He waved her feet in front of her face playfully but Beth meanwhile, had decided that the sock was no fun seeing as it no longer wriggled and spat it out.  
Then promptly stuffed her fingers in her mouth instead.

Shane Schofield padded down the hallway barefoot with Beth now redressed, clinging to his shoulder and completely unaware it was Christmas. Together, the pair of them entered the kitchen just in time to see Aloysius pulling two mugs from the microwave.

"For you," he said as he took Beth from Shane's arms and swapped her for one of the steaming hot mugs. Then, grabbing a pair of reindeer ears from off the counter and carefully sticking them on Beth's head, he added, "And for you."

"Did you make this?" Shane asked, giving the mug of what looked to be eggnog a once over.

"Nah," Knight replied, now pulling faces at Beth and making her giggle, "Just augmented it."

As he said that, Shane had taken a mouthful off the hot liquid and promptly spat it back out.

"There's more brandy than eggnog in that," he said, noticing the half empty bottle on the counter behind Knight for the first time. "You can't have that before breakfast."

Taking the second mug off Knight, he set them both on the counter and shooed them into the living room where the sure distraction of the Christmas tree and presents awaited.

One could be forgiven for thinking that having purchased and wrapped the vast majority of the presents under the tree themselves, most of the enjoyment would have gone out of unwrapping.  
But even though she didn't understand what was going on, Beth still loved the surprise as the bright paper was peeled away to reveal blocks in bold primary colours or soft things that she could snuggle into. And of course, there was the paper itself which crunched so delightfully in her hands.  
And the two soldiers enjoyed undoing their handwork significantly as well.

An unassuming package wrapped in plain brown paper but tied with a red ribbon and marked simply, _from Rufus_, revealed a small box inside of which baby sized spoon. Rubber, so as to be gentle on new teeth, it was shaped like an aeroplane. Inside there was a note scrawled in Rufus's sloping handwriting.

_From one pilot to another,_ it read. _Sorry Aloysius._

Shane put that one aside carefully, smiling, before reaching for a lumpy package bearing an airmail stamp.

"This one's from your great grandma Mae," he said, waving it in front of Beth who reached for it with grabby hands. Chuckling, Shane threw the package to Knight, upon whose lap Beth was sitting and together, they unwrapped it. Or rather, Knight tried to unwrap it and Beth's hands got in the way. When the paper was torn to shreds and tossed to the side, a thick hand knitted jumper was pulled out. It was bright red around the middle with a decorative snowflake pattern in white around the neck. Large matching red buttons ran down one shoulder and were well sewn on, which was lucky as Beth immediately closed her fist around one of them.

By the time they were finished, Beth had acquired a good many more picture books to add to her collection of bedtime stories and between Nana Mae and the nice old lady who lived across the hall, she would never run out of socks, but taking pride of place on the living room floor was a beautifully carved wooden farm yard complete with a selection of animals they had wrapped individually.

Due in no small part to Shane and Aloysius's determination at the toy shop, the animals were large enough that she couldn't accidently – or on purpose – eat them and they were durable enough to withstand years of teeth marks.

And so Christmas morning passed with the two soldiers lying on the living room floor, mooing and quacking and oinking for the amusement of one small girl. Until at last, only two presents remained under the tree. Sheepishly, Knight pushed them both towards Schofield.

"Open that one first," he said, pointing at the larger of the two.

Shane laughed aloud as he opened the package and found a sweater emblazoned in large letters with the words 'Army Girlfriend.'

Knight was rubbing the back of his neck and looking unusually bashful as he said, "I know I'm not in the army anymore and I know you're not - "

Shane silenced him by kissing him thoroughly, pulling back only long enough to say "I love it. I'm going to wear it to work just to see their faces."

"Also," he added, stealing his mouth back from Knight for a minute, "Why do they make these in men's sizes?"

They could have become very distracted were it not for the fact that as they shifted to get closer, Shane sat down upon the second smaller present and distinctly felt something solid.

"You should open that," Knight muttered against his lips and pulled back, looking if possible, even more sheepish than before. With a quizzical look that quickly turned to alarm, Shane ripped the paper to reveal –

"A collar?" He said, confused, as he held it up. His other hand immediately shot out to cover Beth's eyes. "Do I need to be worried?"

"It's not for you," Knight explained hastily and Shane breathed a large sigh of relief. Knight meanwhile, was looking resolutely at the ground, at the tree, at Beth, anywhere but Shane when he said, "I thought we could get a puppy."

Shane raised a single eyebrow.

"Well we've done pretty well with the baby so far," he continued, "So how much more difficult could a dog be. Most families do things the other way 'round, if you don't kill the dog then you can have a kid but hey, since when do we do things the normal way."

Shane smiled at the use of the word 'family.' The comment sounded flippant but he knew how to read between the lines of Aloysius's words.  
"I guess we're getting a puppy then," he replied.

Knight's lips twitched like he was trying and failing to supress a smile as he turned and started to gather the paper now strewn around the room but Shane stopped him with a quick hand against his wrist.

"You didn't think I didn't get you anything, did you?" He said as he pulled a plain envelope out from where he'd tucked it under the band of his pyjamas when he'd dressed that morning. "I didn't put it under the tree because I didn't want it to get lost."

It was Knight's turn to look confused as he opened the envelope and pulled out a single piece of paper.

A piece of paper on which there were only two names and an address.

Greg and Alison Knight.  
48 Union Road  
Portsmouth, New Hampshire

Knight looked up after a long moment in stunned silence.

"How did you get this?"

Schofield smiled back mysteriously.  
"Did I never mention I have a friend who's a code cracker?"

Knight continued to sit on his haunches, mouth open and stare at the names as though they might vanish if he glanced away whilst Shane stood up and headed for the kitchen. They had both agreed that roasting a turkey was a little beyond either of them but there was a generous ham in the fridge that needed to be sliced. Whilst slicing the ham did require Schofield's presence in the kitchen, it didn't require any actual cooking skill – knife skills perhaps but Shane had those in abundance – unlike the green beans and roast potatoes, which would be Knight's domain. Juliet had offered to bring a Yule log and Mother had promised rum balls which would probably give Aloysius's eggnog a run for their money.

On his way past, Shane squeezed his shoulder firmly.  
In return, Aloysius brought his hand up to clasp the one resting on his shoulder and let Shane drag him to his feet. Stuffing the precious bit of paper into his pocket, Knight allowed himself to be led into the kitchen.

They had barely got the table set, the mess cleaned up and Beth down for a nap when the doorbell rang. Mother bustled in first, pushing an enormous container full of rum balls into Schofield's hands. Ralph followed, looking torn between amusement and apologetic whilst Juliet and Book II trailed in, with John in tow.

Setting up little John in the living room with a train set, the adults exchanged – and promptly opened – several bottles of grog in the spirit of a very merry Christmas lunch indeed.  
Perhaps it was the enthusiastic company, the full glass of wine in his hand, the deliciously hearty smells wafting from the table or simply the Christmas cheer, but Schofield was ravenous.

As the group worked their way through the food and alcohol, the conversation became louder and more riotous. Mother happily expounded upon the latest goings on of the six Britney clones and her nearest escape from the bitch-from-hell mother-in-law; to which Juliet replied with an anecdote of their last Christmas together, in which Buck Riley Junior had met Juliet's family for the first time. For a self-confessed simple grunt, he had handled himself admirably around her stunning but intimidating university professor mother and self-made millionaire business man father.  
Or at least, he had handled himself well until the traditional Taiwanese tea eggs were served.

But it was Schofield that managed to steal all the thunder from the conversation when he said without thinking, "We've got an announcement to make, we're getting a new addition."

The statement was met with stunned silence.  
Ralph blanched, as though he had just heard the only thing he never, ever, wanted to hear.  
Mother was uncharacteristically silent.  
Book II went paler than Shane had ever seen him before and Juliet's eyes flickered curiously towards his stomach.  
Knight just buried his head in his hands.

"Oh God no... I didn't mean… Not like that…" Shane hastily backtracked.

"We're getting a puppy," Knight said drily, reappearing from behind his hands.

At exactly the same moment as Ralph said, "More wine!"

Another bottle appeared and made its rounds around the table until the moment had passed. Ralph struck up a conversation with Knight about different breeds and the most suitable dogs for apartment living. Juliet began to clear the plates away, shooing off Shane's attempts to help but gratefully accepting Mother's hand in setting up desert – hopefully most of it would make it to the table. Buck and Schofield meanwhile, retreated to the living room. John had long since abandoned the train set and was helping Beth, now well and truly awake after her nap, build, knock down and rebuild a tower from her blocks. The two children shrieked with laughter every time.

Book lazily pushed the wooden train around the simple circular track towards Schofield, who was lying on his stomach on the ground with his head propped upon his folded arms, watching the children pensively.

There were plenty of thoughts fighting for space in his brain – how the heavy weight of responsibility that had settled in his chest hadn't eased at all but instead seemed to grow with every moment he spent with Beth; or how that same chest had somehow found the room to expand with inexpressible love for her at the same time; or how time itself seemed to pass so quickly as she grew; as they all grew together – but he didn't have the words to express any of it, so instead they remained in companionable silence.

The little old lady who lived across the hall from them listened to their laughter, the bangs of crackers being pulled and the squeals of little ones beginning to get tired. She watched through her peephole as the two young men said goodbye to their friends late in the afternoon, all of their cheeks rosy and their smiles warm. One of those nice young boys – as she thought of them – cradled the little girl against his chest, protecting her from the cold, whilst one of the others she wasn't familiar with, hoisted a small sleeping boy onto his shoulder.  
She watched as they exchanged hugs and kisses all around.

She might've been elderly but she was far from blind. Her sharp eyes had seen many a thing throughout her long life and she understood well the implications of two young men trying to raise a baby.  
Though exactly whose baby it was, she couldn't fathom. The little girl looked like both of them, though her eyes were the exact shade of blue as the one who always wore the darker lensed sunglasses.

Just last week, she had called upon them for a favour. The large pot she needed to boil her Christmas pudding was far too heavy for her to lift onto the stove once it was full of water. She needed strong arms and a fit body, which those young men had in plenty. Together, they had easily hoisted the pot onto the stove and neither had even commented on what an elderly thing like her could possibly need two Christmas puddings for. One of them had taken his sunglasses off briefly to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow – the kitchen was stifling, but that was the price of a good pudding – and she had seen _those _eyes, so like the baby's.

The other one never took his sunglasses off, though she could make out his eyes behind the yellow lenses and they seemed kindly enough, so she didn't mind.

As the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, she opened her door a crack to see the shorter of the two men notice something at his feet, wrapped in cloth. Carefully balancing the baby, he stooped down to pick it up. She smiled to herself as she saw his lips form the words written on the card in her own spidery handwriting.

_Merry Christmas Boys._

She saw the other one bow his head to barely brush his lips against the others cheek and she saw the way his eyes closed in simple contentment.

She followed his eyes as he looked from the baby, to the pudding, to the doorway into which the other man had disappeared.  
He smiled and followed him in.


	21. Part 3: Chapter 21

**A/N: **So after saying that I was going to take a break from this, naturally the bug bit me again! I'm also breaking my rules and working on two stories at once. The first few chapters of Interludes, the threequel to Confessions and Complications will also be up soon.

This chapter begins part 3, which I'm pleased to say, has a plot! I'm working with a different format here. This story was going to take forever if I continued to write it the way I tend to, every moment of every day. So instead, I'm going to write just one important scene for each month that passes in the story. Let me know what you think of it.

In this particular chapter, there are too many Knights. Whenever someone is referred to by their last name only, that is Aloysius Knight.

Chapter 21: January

Shane Schofield and Aloysius Knight passed their first New Year's Eve together in the tradition of all new parents everywhere – as soon as the baby was asleep, so were they; fuck New Year's Eve.

But Beth, it seemed, had other plans. She had been restless for a few days now, spitting up her food like the formula had personally offended her and throwing tantrums if either parent left her sight for even a moment. Despite her sudden clinginess, she seemed almost angry with them and the world in general. They had learnt the hard way to keep her out of reach of their hair, ears and sunglasses when the strange vicious fits took her. Their fingers now bore the marks of her gums which had turned suddenly and strangely hard overnight. Both Shane and Aloysius were grateful that her apparent distress was probably nothing more than teething and not a sign of some significant illness but the prospect of it lasting several months was not one either man relished. She had been fussy before bed that night but having already cried herself into exhaustion throughout the day, Schofield was hopeful that they'd gone through the worst of it; at least until morning.

He was wrong.

Shane stirred in their darkened bedroom and reached instinctively for his battered old Casio watch. The numbers, glowing a faint green gleam, told him it wasn't yet eleven o'clock as he looked around for what had disturbed his sleep. He didn't have far to look – a tinny wailing was coming through the baby monitor.

Casting a glance over at Knight, whose sleep remained unbroken, Shane dragged his reluctant body out of bed and stumbled down the hall to Beth's bedroom. He didn't turn on the light - Juliet had told him it only encouraged them to wake up more – in some vain hope of settling her easily. Carefully, he lifted Beth's squirming body and held her close, pacing the room and rocking her gently, trying to soothe her with the motion. Beth, however, was not soothed. If anything her cries became louder, racketing up to the next level from simple displeasure to downright hysteria.

Shane hadn't felt this hopeless with her since the first terrifying nights they had spent together at home, alone.  
He changed her.  
He tried bribing her with an extra night time feed.  
He rocked back and forth in the rocking chair beside the window sill and just held her close but her cries refused to run out.  
He even voluntarily gave her a finger to gnaw on.

Sometime between midnight and dawn, the walls of the small nursery began to feel like they were closing in on him. It took all the willpower he had but Shane took Beth and his own unwillingly upright body into the lounge room and resumed his pacing. Her breathing evened out in rhythm with his steps but her crying just turned from breathless and desperate into a relentless howl. Shane was at a loss. His head had been throbbing for well over an hour now and with it he was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous. Quite apart from his head, pain was also slicing through his back and legs and a blackness unrelated to the night was creeping into the edges of his vision.

Desperately, Shane shifted one hand until it was holding Beth firmly under her butt whilst the other one came up to rub slow circles on her back, cradling her against his chest.

"I don't know what to do," he said to her desperately, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

It was then with Beth's head tucked firmly into his neck that Shane realised how hot she was. Her skin, plastered against his felt like it was radiating fire and her dark hair was damp.

Cursing himself for not noticing earlier, Shane hurried back into the bedroom where Knight still slept undisturbed.

"Al," he whispered urgently as he shook Knight's shoulder, "Aloysius, wake up."

Knight stirred blearily before muttering, "whassa' matter?"

"Beth's really hot," Shane said, the weariness in his voice couldn't disguise the clear note of panic, "I think she's sick."

Knight sat up, rubbing his eyes, and flicked on the lamp beside their bed before plucking the baby from Schofield's strained arms. Beth's skin was red and angry for sure but it seemed to him no more than the product of exhaustion and tired lungs from all the screaming. He babbled calming baby nonsense to her until her cries finally started to diminish into gentle hiccups and pathetic mews. Before long Beth's eyes were drifting shut and her skin was just the right shade of pink against her dark eyelashes.

"She's fine," Aloysius said, not sure which one he was reassuring more: Beth or Shane.

But if Beth was fine, all traces of her hysteria now fading away in Knight's arms, then Shane looked terrible. His skin was practically grey and dark shadows were clinging around his eyes. Now that the panic fuelled adrenaline was wearing off, he seemed to be swaying on his feet, almost at the verge of collapse.

"How long have you been up?" Knight asked, concerned.

"Couple of hours," Shane murmured back.

Brushing his lips quickly against Schofield's forehead, Knight was relieved to find no trace of fever but Shane still looked unwell.

"You need to sleep babe," the endearment fell past his lips before he could catch it but Shane seemed so tired he hardly even noticed. "I'll put Beth back to bed."

Shane was pliant as he allowed Knight to manhandle him back to bed before he disappeared off with the now peaceful baby. He would never admit it but Shane was grateful for the helping hand, he still felt strangely shaky and sick. Aloysius took him time in returning and Shane imagined him sitting in the rocking chair holding Beth until the last remnants of sleep overtook her entirely. Rationally, Shane knew that babies picked up upon the emotions around them easily. She had been upset with him because he was upset but calmed for Knight because he was calm. With hindsight, he knew he should have brought her to Knight much earlier and calmed them both down. Besides, after the first couple of weeks where Beth hadn't taken well to Aloysius, Shane couldn't have begrudged him this success but he was still frustrated and feeling unusually out of control of his emotions. He tried to push it away as overtiredness and instead focussed on the image of Knight holding Beth tight and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than those arms back with him in their bed, holding him steady.

But by the time Knight rolled back into their bed and pressed up close against his spine, Shane felt over-heated and over-crowded. Feeling rotten, he rolled away from the firm warmth of Knight at his back, heard the way Knight breathed a little sharper but gave him his space and pulled the rubbish bin a little closer to the bed.  
Just in case.

Beth slept soundly through the rest of the night but it clearly wasn't enough as she was still grumpy the next morning. Aloysius watched as Shane strapped her into the car seat. As a rapidly growing five month old child, she had now developed enough control over her body that when she didn't want to do something – like be strapped into her car seat – she had enough coordination to resist. Every time he put her arm through the safety restraints, she whipped it back out again and when he tried to fasten the buckle over her stomach, she would arch her back out, making it too loose. By the time she was securely strapped in, Schofield looked pale and shaky again.

"We don't have to do this," Knight said matter of factly.

Belying his poor look, Shane's voice was even when he replied, "You're not missing out on seeing your parents because the baby's teething. Plenty of other parents have got through this, we will too."

Knight stepped closer until he was right in Shane's personal space.  
"It's not the baby I'm worried about."

"I'm fine," Shane said, stiffening slightly with Knight's proximity. He knew the other man didn't mean to be overbearing but it was starting to drive him crazy. He was, after all, a marine and quite capable of looking after himself.

"I'll sleep on the plane," he added, brushing away Knight's hand that was playing with the short bristles at the back of his head.

He did try to sleep on the plane. Despite his earlier fleeting and probably irrational irritation, Knight's shoulder looked by far the most tempting place to lay his head and he was strangely grateful when Aloysius slid an arm around his shoulders, holding him there secure.

But sleep was always going to be elusive on the small, turbulent flight. Quite apart from the fuss Beth was making; there was the clatter of the trolleys up and down the aisle to contend with. The person behind him kept moving their table up and down and the bright sunlight streaming through the window didn't help either. In the end, Shane just shut his eyes in an effort to calm the raging headache throbbing behind them.

He was now very glad indeed that they'd chosen to fly from the capital to New Hampshire. They had contemplated the ten hour road trip – flying with a small child was notoriously difficult, they had been told – but seeing as Beth was probably going to be difficult anyway, they had decided that braving the one hour flight with her in an enclosed space was far better than ten hours with her in an enclosed space.  
The other people on the flight however, they probably weren't so glad.

They arrived at the bustling Pease International Airport.  
Knight's parents didn't meet them there.

Aloysius shrugged it off and called for a cab. Whilst Knight gave directions and negotiated a fare for the hour long trip to Portsmouth itself, Shane strapped Beth's car seat in tight before climbing in the back seat with her. The over-crowded airport with the constant announcements and the thunderous roll of aeroplanes overhead had done little for his head. Normally, neither man would have travelled with anything more than they could carry on their backs but travelling with an infant presented a whole new realm of problems. Never mind that they were only supposed to be there for the weekend, Beth needed blankets and plenty of spare changes of clothes given the frequent mess she made of herself. Not to mention the portable cot and car seat, both of which had to travel with the oversized luggage, and of course one small but very precious stuffed toy dog with long floppy ears now a little worn from little hands' clutches. The luggage carousel with its crazy press of people all vying and jostling for the best spots made Schofield feel dizzy and nauseous again.

Damn, he really needed to sleep.

The drive to an exclusive suburban area in the centre of Portsmouth passed in a blur.  
Literally.  
It took all his remaining concentration to focus on the roads passing them by and to hold back the bile threatening to crawl up his throat.

Beth, as was her way, slept soundly throughout the car trip. The motion of a moving vehicle being one of the fool proof ways to settle her and Shane reconsidered the wisdom of driving back at the end of the weekend. By the time they stopped in front of a grand house, she was in angelic mode.

"Typical," Shane muttered to himself as he picked her warm body up, leaving the car seat for Knight to deal with.

"There's no point acting cute for me," he said to Beth, who gurgled happily and drooled on his shirt, "I know you're trouble."

The Knights were waiting for them on the sweeping porch that surrounded their handsome redbrick home. Everything about Alison Knight screamed perfectly average; from the mousy brown hair that fell to her shoulders to the department store clothing that was neither fashionable nor dowdy enough to call attention. The only hint of her personality came through in her wide, soft brown eyes.

Although Shane had never had the opportunity to examine them properly through sunglasses and darkened rooms, he suspected those same eyes looked back at him from her son's face. Right down to the flecks of gold that almost escaped notice.

Her husband, Greg, stood at an even six feet tall, at exact eye level with his son and in his house – larger than the average American home but no more so than the neighbours – with its neatly mowed lawn and freshly washed car, standing together with his faultless wife, they seemed to epitomise the American dream.

Shane could tell straight away from his father's posture that Aloysius Knight was not following in family tradition and a handshake, firm but callous free, confirmed that Greg Knight was no soldier.

As they approached, Alison Knight flung out her arms and cried in a warm voice, "Aloysius."

Shane, with the baby in his arms and their rucksack slung over his other shoulder, was spared the ordeal of a hug, although Knight wasn't so lucky. Instead, she pressed dry lips coated in an appropriately neutral shade of long-last lipstick to Schofield's cheek and ushered them both inside. Greg Knight relieved Aloysius of the car seat from one hand, leaving him with the portable cot in the other. They were shepherded through to a large and nicely appointed dining room.

Whilst Knight disappeared upstairs to set up the portable cot in one of three spare bedrooms, Shane spared a glance around the walls – which were decorated with tasteful but traditional artwork – until he found what he was looking for on the large and elaborate mantelpiece over the electric fireplace: photos of Knight as a child.

There were several of him standing with his father, ostensibly hunting together and in each photo, little Aloysius got bigger and so did the gun clutched in his pale hands.

There were several of him sitting with his mother and in each one his face, so familiar and yet so different from the man he would become, was sombre behind amber lenses.

But one caught his eye – a photo of a small boy who couldn't have been older than four. His hands were clasped firmly in another larger pair and his feet were a good foot off the ground. Someone else must have been hovering very close by to catch that playful moment because they hadn't managed to catch the person attached to the hands which were swinging him around. It took Shane a moment to realise why that particular photo had caught his eye.  
The young Aloysius Knight was smiling.  
Smiling all the way to his eyes.  
Which were on display for all the world to see.

For a moment there, Shane thought he'd become so lost in the easy joyfulness of the photo that the edges had simply started to blur around him until he realised that the world actually was spinning around him and black spots were dancing at the edge of his vision.

"That's a nice picture, Mrs Knight," he said, using every bit of his concentration to force the words out in a sensible fashion.

He was saved the trouble of replying to whatever small-talk Alison Knight attempted as Aloysius came barrelling back into the room at that moment, having obviously successfully put up the portable cot. He took stock of the situation, Schofield's suddenly pale colouring and shaking arms, and immediately plucked Beth out of them.

"You need to sleep," Aloysius said firmly, pushing Shane gently but insistently towards the hallway. "Bedroom is the first on the left."

Shane complied without arguing, sensing that if he didn't lie down soon, he would actually fall down.

He did however pause halfway up the stairs, just out of sight, long enough to hear Alison Knight ask, "So he's your -?"

She let the question hang and Shane was relieved to hear Knight fire back in rapid succession, "boyfriend, partner, father of my child."

He could almost see the nonchalant shrug Knight would give with the answer as though daring his parents to press the point. The unspoken 'is there a problem?' was clear in his tone.

"Oh," his mother replied, as much a question as a statement.

"Father of -?" Greg repeated.

"My child," Knight finished and again, his tone brokered no disagreement. "He's a mutant."

Schofield was glad he left the explanation at that, simple and direct, as was Knight's usual wont and thankfully, neither parent decided to question further. The intrusion of their son's mutant male lover and child into their well-ordered lives seemed to have thrown them.

There was a moment's tense silence before Alison asked optimistically, "What do you do for a living now?"

Shane didn't stay to hear the answer, certain that either way – unemployed or bounty hunter – it was not going to go down well.

Letting himself into the impersonal bedroom, he sank down onto the crisp sheets immediately. There was no point in setting up a baby monitor; Beth was sleeping in the next room over. If she had another bad night, no one in the whole house would be getting any sleep.

Shane knew it was unrealistic but he had briefly entertained the idea of getting to see a good glimpse of Knight's childhood, especially the bedroom he had grown up in. Would he have had posters covering every wall and toys strewn across the floor or had he been as meticulous a child as he was an adult? But this house was not the house that Aloysius Knight had grown up in. It was only the place his parents had been sent when they thought he was gone from their lives forever and the absence of their only child's fingerprints was glaring. Instead of posters of bands idolising teenage rebellion, the largest wall had a simply framed landscape painting hung across it. Instead of a bookshelf that would have charted Aloysius's growth from Dr Seuess to Stephen King to Jonathan Swift, there was a single copy of pride and prejudice as well as the latest Tom Clancy novel sitting on the respective bedside tables for the perusal of guests.

Aloysius Knight was as much a stranger in this house as Schofield himself.

Shane managed a few hours of restless sleep when the door finally creaked open again and Knight slipped into the darkened room. Knight was trying to be careful to not wake him, taking slow, soft steps and hoping not to crash into objects in the dark, so Shane flicked the bedside lamp on to let him know not to bother. Aloysius spun, startled by the light and Shane saw that he was balancing a tray awkwardly laden with two steaming bowls of gumbo and some chunky slices of bread.

"What time is it?" Schofield asked blearily.

"Bit after five," Aloysius replied as he set the tray down on the bed and climbed on after it. "You slept through lunch so I thought you might be a little hungry."

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Knight smirked and dunked a handful of bread in the thick gumbo as Schofield struggled out of the sheets he'd managed to tangle himself in. He was very hungry actually. The sort of hungry where his stomach was filled with nothing but a sharp ache.

"Your parents don't mind you not eating with them?" Shane prompted tentatively as he tucked in.

The way Knight's shoulders stiffened would not have been noticeable to the untrained eye and Schofield was one of perhaps only two individuals who would have picked up on it. His hand, hovering over the gumbo, stilled and he looked up to catch Knight's eye, waiting patiently for an answer he knew wouldn't be easily forthcoming.

"Actually, I think they were glad of an excuse to let me go," Aloysius replied sardonically.

"And you're okay with that?" Shane asked.

Knight shrugged.  
"Surprisingly, yes," he said, "I guess I was hoping they'd make some effort for Beth's sake but in truth, I think this is for the best."

He put down his spoon and bread and looked around the unfamiliar room critically before continuing.  
"As far as my parents were concerned, their son was either dead or disowned after the incident in the Sudan. They mourned the son they knew and their lives have moved on. Both our lives have moved on. I can't go back to being the boy they brought up, too much has happened for that and we're never going to comfortably fit back into each other's lives."

"Were they upset?" Shane prompted.

"No. They weren't angry, just awkward and that's how I knew it was a lost cause," Knight replied, shaking his head. "Lord knows I've given them enough to be angry about. They're really catholic so I wasn't sure whether you or the things I've done in the past few years were going to be the bigger problem. They weren't angry though because you only fight for things that are worth fighting for."

Shane looked hard at him and found no trace of a lie in his body language. The set of his shoulders was resolute, not resigned. His twisted smile was wry, not regretful. He really did seem to be weathering this storm okay.

"I heard you call me your boyfriend," Shane said, his small grin not quite hiding the laughter behind it.

"Shut up," Knight replied playfully, aiming a chunk of bread at Schofield's head. "You come up with a better word then."

Shane snatched the bread up and tossed it back lightly at Knight's chest before leaning across the tray between them and grabbing onto Knight's collar.  
"Boyfriend's fine with me," he said and planted a swift, hard kiss against Aloysius's mouth.

They pulled back quickly however, the bowls of gumbo were mostly finished but they'd still make a good mess if they knocked them over. Knight grabbed the tray and hoisted himself off the bed, heading towards the stairs but stopping in the doorway, he looked back at Shane.

"I'm glad we came," he said straightforwardly, "I'm glad I got to see that they're okay and they got to see me finally getting my shit together. It's like a sense of an ending that we all knew had to happen."

Then he disappeared out the door and down the stairs before Shane could reply.

It was a good hour before he returned and Schofield was already dozing again when he came back in and slipped warm under the covers, pressing up against Schofield's back. He smelt of formula and baby shampoo and an undercurrent of the strong unidentifiable spice that was Knight, so Shane guessed he'd been getting Beth ready for bed.

"What do you say we get the early flight out of here tomorrow and go and visit some puppy breeders instead?" Knight muttered into the back of Shane's neck. His breath was warm against the sensitive skin and his body, pressed against Schofield's spine, bled heat into him.

Then he added, words pressed right into Schofield's skin like a searing brand, "This is also our last chance to have naughty try-not-to-be-caught sex in my parents' house."

Shane didn't even need to look to know he was grinning wickedly.


	22. Part 3: Chapter 22

**A/N: **So I know it still doesn't look like it has a plot but I promise, it does. Should be another two chapters before it fully reveals itself, but it is coming. Promise.

Also, the choice of puppy was prompted by several adorable pictures of Jeremy Renner with his puppy before that puppy sadly passed away. I've got to credit GoddessofOlympia who, as a fellow history buff, did suggest to me a white ago that I should name a character after the French King Louis XV – the good one that _didn't c_ause the French revolution, arguably. It didn't quite fit the character at the time but now, I couldn't possibly go past it.

And if you're interested, yes I did actually google search until I found a spicy pumpkin soup recipe designed for six month old babies. My parents must be so confused by my internet history.

You know what's confusing me though – my muses. They're jumping all over the place at the moment and I just can't seem to concentrate on one fic. I've now got three on the go and I'm sure this is only going to end badly. Who knows.

Chapter 22: February

Having turned down several lucrative hunts in order to play peek-a-boo and mash carrots dad, Aloysius Knight passed the majority of January sitting at their rarely used – or at least, rarely used for its intended purpose – dining room table with his open laptop in front of him and bouncing Beth on his lap. After the disappointment of the failed Knight family reunion, both Shane and Aloysius had been thinking a lot about how they could bring their little family even closer and although with a bright and energetic six-month old, another child was well out of the question, a puppy certainly was not.

Beth too was starting to crave more social interaction. She had become adept at communicating and when she was bored or frustrated with either one of her fathers, she was sure to let them know. The few times Schofield had braved taking her to work, she had charmed the tough marines instantly. More than just a little pink bobble now, she smiled at them and tried to pull the decorations off their uniforms. When she couldn't manage that, she just planted her mouth straight over them and drooled. She was at the point where she babbled nonsensical syllables almost constantly and every marine present, no matter his or her degree of badassery, was utterly entranced with her every 'word.'

Mother in particular spent a full hour blowing bubbles in her water bottle for Beth's amusement.

So it was high time they brought something else alive into their lives to play with her, though the exact nature of the puppy they wanted had been a matter of long debate. Schofield was in favour of them adopting a retired greyhound, having been reassured by the internet that apart from one hard and fast run a day, they were otherwise very happy to be a couch potato and so okay to live in the apartment.  
At least, until Knight pointed out that the greyhound might be okay with the apartment, but the landlord was less than okay with the idea of a greyhound.

Knight on the other hand, favoured the gentle giant bullmastiff until Schofield pointed out that gentle temperament or no, it would still do Beth a lot of damage if it sat on her accidently.

They ruled out both options quickly.

And so it was that Schofield often came home from work to the sight of Knight sitting at the end of the dining table that wasn't being used as a temporarily permanent washing sorting place/home for lonely socks, old newspapers and other unidentifiable objects, perusing the internet for breeds suitable for apartment living_ and_ with small children.  
Turns out, that wasn't a very long list.

The one afternoon, however, when Knight came home to find Schofield in front of the laptop searching for a puppy, he had strode across the room and wrapped his arms around the slighter man's shoulders, even going so far as to press a rapid kiss against his temple.

Schofield smiled at the fleeting contact but didn't mention it.  
They both knew he didn't need to.

February brought with it then, after a copious internet and petrol bill, a new addition into their lives in the form of one small but lively French Bulldog that had come to be known as Louis. Actually Skip had christened him Dauphin Louis Zineddine Baptiste D'Anjou X but seeing as no one else could be bothered to remember or actually inflict it on the unfortunate puppy, Louis would suffice.  
As for why she had declared him the tenth when he was surely the first to have ever been stuck with that particularly ridiculous conglomeration of names – some authentically French, some less so – no one had yet asked.

Schofield did however, remind Knight that the dog in question didn't actually come from France and so it seemed unlikely that Louis would respond to commands in broken French.

After a particularly trying day at work, Shane was greeted by the high pitched yelps of the puppy and the equally high pitched squeals of delight from Beth. Having become inseparable from the small stuffed toy dog that Mother had given her as a newborn – she wouldn't sleep without it despite the fact that she often flung it away in the middle of the night, leading to frequent frantic searches by one or both soldiers as Beth screamed for her missing toy - Beth had taken an immediate liking to Louis with his soft short coat and shiny dark eyes. Like many of his breed, Louis was white all over with a single large black patch covering his right ear and eye. Unfortunately for Louis, Beth liked to sleep with her fingers twisted in her stuffed dog's long fleecy ears and had yet to realise that Louis' ears were less than suitable for this purpose.

Fortunately for Beth, Louis had proved to have a docile temperament. Instead of nipping at her fingers when she tugged on his ears, he merely yelped pitifully and looked around with wide plaintive eyes for Schofield or Knight to rescue him.

Letting himself into the living room, Schofield scooped Beth up off the floor, forcing her to let go of Louis and sunk down onto the couch with her in his lap. She was entertained by fiddling with the buttons and patches that littered his uniform. Ordinarily, he would have pulled her fingers away before she could stuff them in her mouth, his day fatigues being rather dirty, but he just didn't have the energy today.

It would have been a less trying day had Rebound and Astro not decided that their routine training exercise could have been improved by the inclusion of a small amount of live plastic explosive.

On one hand, it was only a s_mall _amount of plastic explosive.

On the other, it was a small amount of _plastic explosive. _

By the time Schofield had finished tearing into the pair of rather sheepish marines, it had been his turn to be chewed up by his own superior. How the hell the two young marines had managed to convince the quartermaster to hand it over to them, Schofield didn't know. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know either but still, however they pulled it off it must have been an impressive feat and part of Schofield wanted to commend them for the ingenuity and effort but the base's overall commander didn't share that opinion.

As he collapsed on the couch, Shane let his eyes drift shut and heard the rattle of pots in the kitchen, the delicious smell of whatever Knight was cooking wafting through. Suddenly, something small and warm buried into the side of his body. He cracked upon a single eye to watch Louis unsuccessfully trying to burrow underneath his thigh. Schofield brought his hand up to scratch him between the ears and the puppy's tale thumped loudly against the sofa. Noticing the puppy, Beth lost interest in Shane's buttons and immediately lunged for him. She had finally mastered the art of sitting up on her chubby legs without support and with it, had learnt to support herself as she reached for things that weren't within an arm's length. Louis ducked his head and returned to trying to hide between Schofield and the sofa. Shane however, had no intention of moving, so instead he held Beth's hands in his own and showed her how to gently pat the puppy.

"You do realise that she can't move yet?" Shane said to the puppy, "Just stay away from her if you don't want your ears pulled."

It was true, Beth couldn't yet move. She could attempt a little wriggle and shuffle on her butt but it ended up with her going nowhere to her frustration. Schofield wasn't concerned yet. Buck had told him that little John Riley had gone pretty much from entirely stationary to walking, completely skipping the customary crawling stage in between and had promptly turned into a mobile terror. If Beth wasn't up to moving just yet, neither Shane nor Aloysius were going to encourage her to up the timescale too soon.

Louis just looked up at Schofield, his tongue hanging out his squashed snout, panting happily as Beth's small hand enclosed in Shane's larger one ran down his back.

Just then, Knight emerged from the kitchen, holding a steaming bowl.

"I didn't hear you come in," he said to Shane as he joined him on the couch and offered a mouthful of the contents to Beth on a very special aeroplane shaped spoon.

Having reached the magical weight of fifteen pounds and with her first tooth peeking through, the doctors had pronounced Beth ready to start eating solid foods.  
There was only one problem.

"She doesn't like anything I make her," Knight grumbled as Beth grabbed for the spoon and shoved it away, splattering both of them with what smelled like pumpkin. It was in fact a spicy pumpkin soup that Knight had spent quite a while searching for on the internet that was supposedly suitable for babies from six months old and an excellent way to introduce new flavours into a little one's diet. The little one in question however, had other ideas and alternated between making as much mess as she could and leaking fat tears out the corner of her eyes to garner sympathy until one of her fathers' went and got her the apple puree she was so fond of.

Schofield handed Beth over to a frustrated Knight – not only he had thought he had planned this meal well but it had taken time and effort to cook it as well – and went to prepare a formula bottle.

"Don't worry about it," Shane called back from the kitchen, "We'll eat it."

Knight looked up from where he was bouncing Beth on his lap, trying to keep her out of reach of the bowl and of Louis, as Schofield came back and said astutely, "But you don't like pumpkin."

Shane shrugged and swapped him the bowl for a warm bottle and a small jar of apple puree.  
"It smells good and besides, if she sees us eating it, maybe she'll give it a try."

Truthfully, it did smell good and Schofield was too tired to care just now that he didn't really like pumpkin and especially not pumpkin soup. He had missed lunch in order to yell and then be yelled at for the plastic explosive incident and his stomach evidently didn't care either, it just grumbled audibly at the proximity of the food.

He was tempted to just eat the bowl he had taken off Knight but instead he dutifully went back to the kitchen and retrieved two fresh bowls and a couple of spoons, bringing one back for Knight as well.

It was strange. Having learnt to sit up had proven to be the miracle cure for Beth's colic. Although they had managed it since she was little with a different sensitive tummies formula brand and plenty of upright cuddles, it was her own ability to keep herself upright for the majority of the time that really diminished the amount of spit up they had to clean up. Without the Colic, she was also sleeping solidly through the night now to both Knight and Schofield's relief. However, despite the added sleep, Schofield felt more tired than ever.

Between being a full-time marine recon officer and a full-time dad, it felt like there was always someone who needed his attention and it was starting to drain him. Even the addition of Louis, who had no doubt brightened their lives with his wide squashed face that looked like it was smiling all the time and the way he greeted them at the door with an exuberant wag in his tail, had also brought with him one more demand on his already strained time.

Even now, as they finished dinner together and he thought longingly of bed, there was still more to be done. As his hands were free, Schofield scraped up the last of his dinner first whilst Knight tried to juggle his own bowl with feeding Beth. Beth was more than capable of wrapping her small fingers around her own bottle and holding onto it with a death grip but she couldn't yet work out how to get it into her mouth. She kept hitting her chin, leaving little smears of formula across her face. Knight was attempting to wrest control of the bottle from her one-handed but having little luck so Shane wordlessly took her from him and gave him a chance to finish his own dinner. Settling her back into his arms, he placed his own hands over hers and guided the bottle to her mouth. She suckled contentedly for a while, staring at her own hands on the food source, until milk started to dribble from the corners of her mouth.  
She hadn't yet worked out how to stop when she was full.

It had been a long day and both men were tired as they got up, moving around each other in some sort of silent dance. Knight gathered the bowls and went to the kitchen to freeze the leftovers for a fresh attempt with Beth tomorrow, whilst Schofield took Beth off to get cleaned up. All the way along the corridor, Louis ran around Schofield's ankles, trying to trip them both up in his excitement.

Louis knew what this time of the day meant. Every day for the last few weeks since Louis had come home, Schofield had made the time, no matter how tired he was, to take both Beth and the dog out for a walk down to the banks of the Potomac. The falling evening was cool enough that Louis' sensitive little body wouldn't over heat – as French bulldogs were known for doing – but not so cold that Beth wouldn't be fine with just a jacket and that meant it was high time for their walk. The little dog was wagging his tail that Schofield was a touch worried he was going to wet himself with excitement and he'd really rather that happened outside.

Schofield managed to wipe most of the remains of dinner of Beth's pink wriggling body and even stuffed her arms inside a soft fleecy jacket. It was harder to wrestle a clean pair of socks onto her feet as she waved them in the air and squealed with delight every time she successfully yanked them out of her father's grasp. For good measure, he even pulled a small white beanie over her black tufts of hair. His Nan had made it for her and although he still suspected the lacy pattern that decorated the edges defeated the purpose – 'It's called 'Picot' dear;' fancy name or not, it looked like holes to him – he did have to admit she looked cute.

By the time he'd bundled her into her stroller, Louis had obviously grown impatient and decided to hurry the process up a little. He'd fetched one of Schofield's sneakers for him and helpfully dropped it right at his feet.

It wasn't until after he'd gone and found the matching shoe that he'd realised the laces were chewed through.

When he'd rounded up both shoes and a new set of laces – one of the things they hadn't accounted for but very quickly realised they would need after the puppy came home – as well as a stale loaf of bread to feed the ducks, Knight turned to him, looking up from where he was finishing up the dishes.

"You're off then?" He asked.

They hadn't actually seen much of each other lately, with Schofield's hectic work schedule finally catching up with him and Knight being stuck at home with the baby and puppy all day. When they did spent time together it was mostly just to fall into bed and actually sleep. Even when he did come home, Shane had assumed he was doing Knight a favour by getting the baby and dog out from under his feet for a little while. Evidently, he had assumed wrong if the look of open longing written across the other man's features was anything to go by.

Shane hadn't realised he was perhaps also depriving Knight of some adult company. After the life he had lived for the past few years, Knight must have been going a bit stir crazy locked up in the apartment all day.  
He also hadn't realised he was perhaps depriving Knight of time spent with him.

Knight had never mentioned wanting to join them on their little outings.  
But then again, Schofield had never asked.

"Did you want to come?" Shane asked then, shrugging into his own jacket.

Knight glanced from the door, to Shane and back to the soapy water in the sink.

"Nah, I should - " he began but Schofield cut him off.

"Leave them," he said firmly, "I'll finish them when we get home."

Knight looked like he was about to protest again when movement at ground level caused both of them to look down. There, at Knight's feet was Louis, happily chewing away at the leg of his jeans. Caught, the puppy looked up at Aloysius with the closest thing to a shit-eating grin that a dog could wear still with a mouthful of trouser.

A smirk quirked at the corners of Knight's lips in a way that Schofield was prepared to swear was fond.

"Well, I can't say no to that can I?" Aloysius said, reaching for a parka with a smile.


	23. Part 3: Chapter 23

**A/N: **And we're back to Little Wonders again… Haven't a clue what my brain is doing to me at the moment, I'm just trying to go along for the ride.

I know I've said this heaps now, but I've really struggled writing this story. So once again, thank you to all of you who have stuck with it. This chapter is dedicated to Black666Hunter, who shared with me something one of her teachers once told her; "writing is never pointless. Share your words with the world and every reader will find their own meaning in every chapter." At times, this story and especially these last few chapters have felt like plotless, pointless fluff to me. I hope that my readers are getting more than that out of them.

Chapter 23 – March

It was six o'clock on a Monday evening and Shane Schofield could have killed whoever it was that had just rung the doorbell. He answered it to find his entire unit crammed into the small hallway that all the apartments opened onto. They all wore sheepish smiles but by far the most sheepish was Book II, who held up a DVD case in his hand so that Schofield could see the title printed across it: Ghostbusters.

"It's Monday," he said, as if that explained the sudden presence of seven marines in Schofield's hallway. "We just thought that since you couldn't make Monday Movie Nights anymore, we'd bring them to you."

"You gonna leave us out here on the doorstep, Scarecrow?" Mother said brusquely.

Schofield stood back to let them pass wordlessly. As each marine entered, Shane felt a rush of gratitude for each of them. Even though he'd seen each and every one of them at work every day for the past exhausting week, they had gone above and beyond in taking the time out to come and just be his friends, not his unit. Lord knows he needed the adult company. After seven months, he was impressed that Knight was still sane.

Mother was last, having pushed the other marines through the doorway first so that they were milling in Schofield's living room.

"You've got banana on your shirt," she said with a smirk as she went past.

Shane sighed, looking down and realising that yes, he did have mashed banana smeared into his plain black t-shirt. He also had a hand towel slung across his shoulder to guard against baby spew and flying chunks of banana.  
Obviously it had been ineffective.

Knight reappeared just then, having settled Beth to bed – and miracle of miracles, she had stayed asleep even with a herd of marines tramping through her flat – to find Schofield's entire unit in their living room.

Shane just shook his head as though there wasn't even any possible explanation and beckoned him over. Rebound and Astro were already fiddling with the DVD player whilst the other marines made themselves comfortable on the couch. Schofield's apartment – that was now absolutely also Knight's apartment despite the lack of name on the lease – wasn't exactly on the roomy side. Whilst it comfortably fit two men and a baby, eight marines and a bounty hunter was starting to push it. Skip, Astro and Rebound picked vaguely comfortable spots on the floor. Mother took over the single armchair whilst Bigfoot and Sanchez dragged over a couple of dining chairs. Book II was on the couch but there was a clearly deliberate space left for two more people. Schofield slid a hand around Knight's wrist and tugged him down to the couch. Even with most of the marines sprawled out across the rest of the room, it was still a tight fit, so nobody commented if their thighs were pressed against each other's – even though there was a respectable distance between Book and Knight – and no one even seemed to notice that Shane leant into the warmth of Aloysius' side just a little.

As someone hit the lights and the opening music began to play, Shane shucked his sunglasses off, hoping that they fell to the floor in one piece and leaned just a little more into Knight.

Shane thought they were pretty lucky to make it halfway through the movie before the sound of tears joined the cacophony from the movie. Somebody reached for the pause button but Shane shooed their hand away.

"I'll bring her out," he said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the movie, "She's never going to sleep with all this noise anyway."

When he flicked the light on in her bedroom, Beth glared at him through watery eyes. Her expression said that she knew something was going out without her and she clearly resented being left out.

Shane snuffed a laugh at the indignation written across the face of a seven month old and scooped her out of her cot. Upright against his chest, she curled her little hand tight into his t-shirt and buried her head in the crook of his neck. She still smelt like the baby shampoo they had used for her bath. Shane loved that smell.

He took her to the kitchen first and by the time he went back into the living room, he had Beth in one arm and a bowl of popcorn in the other. The popcorn he handed to Mother and Skip said loudly, "Ooh, give her here."

Surprisingly however, even though it was Skip who had spoken, it was Rebound who held out his arms to take the baby and Schofield deposited her carefully in those arms. Rebound held her under her armpits, her feet just dangling at his lap. At first, Beth kicked her soft, fuzzy feet, booted as part of her sleep time onesie but then she locked her knees and bounced as though trying to straighten herself up as much as her little body could manage. In Rebound's firm and safe grasp, she practiced her standing, babbling away in syllables that were starting to sound like English.

"Da," she said firmly and Rebound shook his head equally vigorously.

"Oh no, no, no," he said, "I'm not your dad."

He pointed behind him in Schofield and Knight's general direction.  
"They're your daddies."

"And aren't they going to have fun explaining that one to you when you're older," Knight said snarkily.

Beth however, continued to beam at Rebound, showing off her brand new tooth.

"Flirt," Schofield muttered teasingly so that the whole team heard.

But by then, Beth had completely lost interest in the movie or the people around her and had latched on to Rebound's dog tags instead. In the flickering light cast by the movie, they gleamed silver intermittently and it was more than enough to draw her excited gaze.

Schofield chuckled. He had learnt the hard way: when he got home, his dog tags were the first thing to come off. At first it had felt odd to not have their familiar cold weight around his neck but now it was second nature to slip them carefully into the pocket of his fatigues so that they would be there waiting for him when he put them back on again the next day. In some ways, it had actually helped; provided a physical separation between being the Scarecrow and just Beth's dad.

Beth closed her little fist around the chain of Rebound's dog tags before the young man even had the chance to realise and react. Next thing he knew, his dog tags were in the little girl's mouth and were being drooled upon enthusiastically.

After that, Beth was passed pretty quickly on to Astro, where she promptly smacked her tiny palms against his face, squishing his cheeks out of shape. Astro really had no choice but to make faces at her for the amusement of the seven month old baby. Skip however, gave up all pretence of trying to watch the movie and instead, leaned over and joined in cooing over Beth.

This time, there was no stifling the laugh as Shane watched the three young marines utterly entranced by one little girl who was blowing spit bubbles with careless abandon.

He blamed it on the movie.

As the credits started rolling, Bigfoot's voice piped up in the dark, "Another?"

"Something more child friendly this time," Buck added with a nod in Beth's direction. The little girl was desperately trying to stay awake, clinging to Skip, but her drooping eyelids betrayed her.

No one argued as another DVD was slipped in and the opening song of The Lion King flared to life across the screen. The rhythms and bright colours seemed to revive Beth, who was now staring at the screen entranced. Skip's dog tags were nestled between the curve of Skip's breasts and Beth's growing tummy but they were completely forgotten, lost against the whirlwind that was the life of Simba.

It seemed to have the opposite effect on Schofield though. The familiar melodies filled his head until they all blurred together and the next thing he knew, The Circle of Life was playing again as the credits rolled. Beth was now sound asleep in Bigfoot's practiced arms. The last kernels had been scraped out of the popcorn bowl and amidst it all, Shane had fallen asleep with his head on Knight's shoulder.

One by one, the marines let themselves out of the apartment in silence. Shane's eyes were still heavy and he stayed dozing there on Knight's shoulder. Not one of the marines mentioned it – not even Bigfoot who had to lean right in close to transfer the sleeping child from his arms to Knight's, no small feat to achieve without waking her – so Shane just let it slide as well. He gave in and let the heaviness reclaim his eyes.  
Aloysius Knight, with Beth asleep in his arms and Shane on his shoulder, didn't move until the very last song had finished.


	24. Part 3: Chapter 24

**A/N: **This chapter is for IBegtoDreamandDiffer – who wrote me a wonderful story for the easter exchange, so I wanted to give her something in return. She's waited so patiently for this chapter for far too long. Thanks for all your support!

Also, happy Easter.

If (like me) you're obsessive compulsive, it might help to know that the exact date for this chapter is April 17th 2013. I have literally sat down with a calendar and worked all the dates out exactly for the rest of the fic.

Chapter 24 – April

Schofield rounded the corner block on a blustery Sunday morning still clinging to the last vestiges of winter to the now familiar sight of a dark skinned man hanging around his building's front doorstep. The scene wouldn't have been unusual were it not for the fact that the man's skin was a shade of inky blue. It had taken a while but Shane had finally convinced Kurt Wagner that his customary trench coat did not in fact, make him look any less suspicious. He had abandoned it in favour of a pair of jeans and a thick sweater with a turtleneck. With a hat pulled low down to nearly cover his eyes, he was almost unremarkable.  
Almost.

Shane waved briefly to Kurt before jogging up the stairs to their fourth floor apartment with Louis hot at his heels. They had already been out for a walk this morning and Schofield would just let him back into the apartment where the small puppy would undoubtedly go and crawl into their bed to snuggle his cold nose into Knight's warm body. Sure enough, he had only just got the door open when Louis wriggled through it and sped off to the bedroom, his back legs sliding out from under him comically on the floorboards in his hurry to get there. Shane paused just long enough to listen for the sound of even breathing coming through the baby monitor before closing the door again and heading back down the stairs, where Kurt was waiting for him.

Shane had given up on sleep-in's years ago. As a marine, sleeping late was a rare luxury.  
As a parent, it was non-existant.

So it was no bother to give up his Sunday mornings for the last however many months to train at Xavier's Westchester mansion. Jean had finally allowed him to move on from hand to hand combat. They had instead progressed to working on meditation techniques to hone his senses. She did however, have a nasty habit of shooting at him without warning in order to test those senses. Shane didn't know whether to be relieved that she trusted his ability that much or nervous that she had a young girl with healing powers waiting on standby during their sessions just in case.  
Either way, she hadn't got him yet.

When Shane came back to the door step, it was to find Kurt occupying the largest patch of sun he could find. He had long since given up expecting the man to say something in greeting so instead, he offered a smile and an arm for Kurt to grasp.

Only this time, instead of the customary swirl of dark smoke and instantaneous enveloping pressure, Kurt let go again almost immediately with an animalistic hiss that was unmistakably anger.

"Why did you not say something before now?" Kurt's voice was quiet. Kurt's voice was always quiet. He didn't need to shout to make clear his anger. Every word was practically spat from between thin lips. "You bring danger upon yourself and your child."

Shane's thoughts immediately flew to Beth, who he had assumed was still sleeping safe and sound in her crib.  
But he hadn't actually checked on her.

He could see the sweep of her dark eyelashes against pale skin; the way her fingers would be clutching her stuffed dog – the one she had just recently named, pa; her smile when he first woke her up. And he imagined never seeing any of those again.

Complete utter terror flooded every fibre of his being, mingled with seething rage that he didn't know who to direct at. Shane turned to run immediately back to the apartment at the urgings of the primeval need to protect his daughter until Kurt caught his arm again and stopped him.

His skin was cool against Schofield's.

"Not that child," he said in a calm voice as though he knew what Shane was thinking – which he couldn't. He wasn't a telepath, Shane knew that. It was important to keep track of these things. "Bethany Mae is unharmed. I refer to your other child."

Confusion swirled through Kurt's lamp-like yellow eyes and Shane felt sure the expression was mirrored on his own face.

"I don't have another-" he began at exactly the same time as Kurt said, "But this child has consciousness. Surely you cannot know."

Kurt's wrist clamped down hard around Schofield's wrist and he screwed his face up in concentration more so than he normally did when preparing to teleport.

"You must see Dr Grey," he said.

And with the customary flash of dark smoke, they were gone.

When he opened his eyes, Shane was surprised to see that Kurt had brought them right into the stark underground areas. Normally, he brought them to the grounds out of politeness, instead of simply inserting his presence where it may not have always been wanted. Even Jean looked surprised, her cool grey eyes wide as she looked up from her clipboard. They hadn't arrived in the customary training room however, but a room filled with whirring contraptions and highly calibrated machines. It looked like Jean's personal lab.

Kurt crossed the room in uneven strides and the pair of them talked rapidly in low voices. Given the fleeting looks they were both giving him, looks that studiously avoided his eyes but instead flickered over the hard planes of his stomach, Shane felt reasonably sure that he knew where this was headed.

Only he'd thought it impossible. They'd been so careful.  
Except when they hadn't.

It had been after Shane's first mission back on active duty – nothing particularly difficult, just some home grown white supremacists in Idaho – and he'd come home tired and dirty, with another man's blood under his fingernails. It had been Shane's first chance to put his newly discovered skills to the test and perhaps it was because he was now consciously aware of them and straining to use them, but his reflexes seemed dulled to him. There were more near misses than he liked and it had left him drained.

He had been both exhausted and thrumming with post mission adrenaline that wouldn't let him rest. So it had been a relief to fall into Knight's arms and let him fuck him into oblivion.

They'd never even made it to the floor.

Knight's strength was more than enough to pin him against the wall and hold him there. He had given over what little strength he had left to Aloysius who was more than eager to accept it. It was as though they were trying to crawl into each other's warm and very much present skin. They had come away with bite marks and long scratches down their backs – blood welling beneath the surface to remind them of the life they were both lucky to still have coursing through their veins. Shane had come hard against Knight's chest, his hand pressed hard into the skin so that he could feel Aloysius' heartbeat, throbbing below the surface. They had been so caught up in relief at seeing each other alive at least once more that they hadn't spared a thought for the life that they could possibly have created, Knight's release warm and wet between Shane's thighs, staining hastily pushed away pants.

Jean left the room without a word.

Shane knew it was serious when she came back with Professor Xavier. The Professor was as unflappable as always, smiling serenely in a way that shone right through to his unclouded blue eyes, as he rolled right up to Shane. He lifted aged hands, asking permission with the gesture and Schofield nodded his ascent. As those hands settled on either side of his face, hovering close but not touching, Shane felt something sharp pierce his right arm and looked down to see Jean slide a needle under his skin. His blood, dark red and thick, slid along a tube into a vial held in Jean's steady hands.  
"Just to be sure," She said and Shane nodded.

Closing his eyes, Schofield felt the Professor break through his mind, pulling out his own feelings of confusion and fear and a small spark of hope that he hadn't realised was hiding in the depths of his mind. That night after that first mission swum to the front of his mind before Xavier seemed to realise what he was intruding upon and respectfully let it slide back into a private corner of his memory. Shane could hear the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat and what sounded like an echo beneath it. Then, Shane experienced the most unusual sensation he'd ever encountered in all his years of life – he felt Professor Xavier's probing mind turn away from his own, though maintaining a thin connection with it, and focus in instead on that other heartbeat. Shane was suddenly swamped with emotions that were not his own. They were simplistic, almost primal emotions – a flash of irritation at being disturbed, though he couldn't explain why, and now having been disturbed, hunger seemed at the forefront of this mind. Shane was by no means a powerful telepath. He doubted that even with all his effort could he break into the mind of Jean Grey. The thought of reading the Professor's mind was entirely impossible and yet, there were a few things that Jean had taught him. A name is usually such an intrinsic part of a person, the first answer to the question 'who are you,' that it resides in the very foremost of a persons' mind and subsequently is very easy to read. Yet this person had no name, no sense of self, not even a concept of existence. Their heartbeat thumped, faster than any adults', out of time with Schofield's own. In that moment, Shane experienced the odd sensation of truly knowing a person better than they knew themselves. This person was unquestionably, intrinsically a part of him.

The Professor retreated from both their minds, leaving Shane with a sense of loss and a confusing swirl of his own emotions. His lips barely moved but Shane could see the smile through Xavier's blue eyes. There was no need for him to talk, he had found everything he was looking for in Schofield's mind and they were both fully aware. Shane nodded his thanks silently and let Jean steer him towards a chair as the Professor rolled out of the room.

Xavier stopped at the door and turning to Jean, said cryptically, "At least fourteen but no more than thirty."

Dr Grey nodded in understanding, her face of calm scientific detachment on as she directed him to lie down on a reclined metal seat. It was cool against his skin.

"Well, I don't think we'll be doing any training today," Jean said, allowing a small smile to slip past her professional mask. "I know it's a pain but we just want to run a few tests to make sure everything is okay with both of you."

Words still felt a little beyond his grasp so Schofield just tilted his head the slightest amount and Jean understood that to be the closest she was going to get to 'informed consent.' She was professional as she slid cool hands under his shirt, pushing it up to expose the planes of his stomach. To Shane, the skin looked no different than it ever had. The muscles were still firm and the skin stretched tight across them, goosebumps forming from the sterile lab air. Without that feeling of connection to the child's mind, he found it hard to believe it was even there until Dr Grey pressed a small round wand hard into his abdomen and the throbbing sound of a heartbeat once again filled the room.

Shane tipped his head back and just listened, revelling in the steady sound.

The only other sound in the room was a muttered prayer issuing in a constant stream from the mouth of one person they had all forgotten was there. Kurt had this incredible ability to simply blend into shadow when he wanted to. Shane didn't understand the latin words escaping Kurt's mouth but he understood their sentiment – it was a prayer of thanksgiving.

Jean meanwhile, dragged a few extra machines around and began hooking them up, chatting away as she worked.

"I gather the more people there are to teleport, the harder it gets," She said, gesturing in the direction of Kurt, "and since he wasn't aware of the baby, he could have left it behind and the consequences would have been disastrous."

Schofield rapidly pushed that thought out of his mind. It hadn't happened, they were both safe now and in the future, he would make sure they stayed that way.

"And as for the Professor, he meant that it's nigh on unheard of to hear a heartbeat before fourteen weeks so you must be at least that far along but at the same time, her mind wasn't developed enough to be particularly close to delivery. His estimate was less than thirty weeks," Dr Grey said, now recording measurements in colourful lines across one of the screens. "Based on the baby's size, I'd say you're probably closer to twenty."

"Twenty-three," Shane corrected. He'd already totalled it up quickly in his head. It had only been that one time, so it was a simple matter of counting the weeks since then. He was just glad they had caught on before this one was born.

It was then that he replayed her words in his mind and seized upon the slip.

"Her?" Schofield asked, sitting up abruptly so that his shirt fell back down.

Jean's hands flew to her mouth in horror.  
"I am so sorry," she said from behind them, "I didn't even ask you if you wanted to know."

"It's fine," Shane replied, his own pleasant astonishment striking him dumb and truly, it was fine. Had he been given the choice, he would have wanted to know anyway. Given Beth's surprise arrival, he wanted to gather as much information as he could before this one entered the world. This time, he was going to be prepared.

Jean spun the monitor around so he could see it clearly, though he couldn't make out anything that looked even vaguely human shaped.

"Those are her legs," Jean said, pointing to the screen and tracing it over so that Shane could indeed spot two long things that looked rather bowed at the moment. "She's giving us a nice clear look between them, so no surprises here. This is definitely a little girl. That there is her face."

Shane couldn't see a face but that didn't stop him accepting a print out of the scan anyway.

Behind them, a fax machine whirred to life as another set of results came flying out of it. Jean scooped them out of the output tray and passed her eyes over them carefully.

"Hank says your blood work looks fine, you're in good health," she said without looking up. "So I'm going to ask you to drop in and see us again in two weeks' time for a more comprehensive check-up. We've got a medical centre here in the school - "

Schofield must have looked surprised because she continued, "We've got four hundred young mutants running around here who are only just learning how to control their powers and on top of that, we've got another hundred odd adults that regularly attempt to save the world; of course we have a medical facility. We can oversee all your care here. So we'll see you two weeks and until then, try to take it easy."

Jean gave him a wry smile that said she knew he wouldn't but was going to ask anyway.

Shane nodded and crossed the room to where Kurt was waiting to take him back home.

"Oh and Shane," Jean called, just before they vanished, "Congratulations."

The next minute, the walls were dissolving around them and D.C. was reappearing. This time, Schofield was conscious of the same pressurized sensation enveloping not only his own body, but again centred on his stomach. The teleport seemed to take an extra second today as Kurt was careful not to jostle their bodies too much, holding the baby safe beneath Shane's skin.

This time, the sensation left him feeling unusually nauseous.

He waved goodbye to Kurt, who touched his cap and vanished again, before making his way slowly up the front doorsteps. Shane was in no hurry to reach their apartment, needing a few minutes to think.

Now he just had to work out what he was going to tell Knight.


	25. Part 3: Chapter 24 and three quarters

**A/N: **This is sort of still a part of the last chapter but I wanted to publish them separately. I have pretty much settled on a name for the baby already but if people would like to make suggestions, I'm all up for it!

Chapter 24 ¾ 

When Schofield pushed open their front door, he was relieved to find the small apartment deserted. A note, hastily scrawled in Knight's handwriting, was on the kitchen counter, informing him that they had run out of milk, so Aloysius had run down to the local shops with Beth. They wouldn't be long.  
It was hard to say, but it was signed with a scribble at the end that might have been a kiss.  
Or it could have been Beth's attempts to grab the pen.

Shane was glad for the further reprieve. His mind was refusing to cooperate and he had yet to think of a single way – other than the blunt ones – to break the news to Knight.

His feet carried him down the hallway and into their cramped bathroom almost unconsciously.  
He needed to see this for himself, only then could his mind rest.

With unsteady hands, he searched through the mysterious debris that lined the top shelf of bathroom cupboards the world over until his hand closed around what he was looking for.  
Knight had bought half a dozen of them shortly after he'd first moved in.

"Just in case," he had said; but he had been joking. Neither of them had really anticipated having any need for these.

The box was pink and bore the legend '98% accurate' above the smiling face of a round bellied woman.

Shane thought the device itself looked rather like a thermometer.

Once it was done, he took it back into the living room and waited, perching on the edge of the couch with his hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Knight walked back in - Beth clutched in his arms, giggling over some silly thing her father had said or done – at exactly the same moment as the second blue line materialised, forming a small plus sign.  
Exactly as Shane had known it would.

The thing about Knight was, he was bloody perceptive; keeping himself alive had been dependent on never letting anything go unnoticed. Shane could practically see the way his eyes zeroed in on the small white stick.

A million things to say rushed through Shane's mind.

"I don't understand why these things seem to be designed for men," was what he heard his own voice say.

Knight nearly dropped Beth.

"Seriously," He said as Knight practically ran across the room to join him on the couch, depositing Beth on the floor at their feet and picking up the test, as if he too needed to check it was real. "Those things have got to be easier to use if you can control the direction you piss in and why are you even touching that, I pissed on it."

He knew he was babbling and dammit, the Scarecrow didn't babble but right now, his brain seemed to have lost temporary control of his mouth. Judging from the way Knight's jaw was hanging open, he seemed to have suffered a similar problem – only in the absence of control, he at least seemed struck speechless.

"Is this for real?" He eventually got out. His voice was calm, almost detached, betraying no hint of emotion.

Even though they were sitting close, not an inch of their skin touched. Knight was rigid, his every muscle tensed with the effort of holding himself together. At their feet, Beth had pulled herself upright, using the couch to hold herself steady. It was a trick she had only just learned so when she scooted along the couch on little booted feet, it was with an ungainly shuffle, using her hands one over the other to pull herself along. She reached out with one hand to tug on Shane's trousers but in doing so, lost her tenuous balance and fell hard unto her butt. For a moment, she looked only surprised at gravity's intervention but then her face screwed up and she howled with the newly discovered pain of hitting one's sciatica.

Shane scooped her off the floor and settled her warm body on his lap.

"No, I managed to fool two telepaths and a pregnancy test for a joke," he replied, aiming for sarcastic but not quite managing to completely disguise the crack in his voice. It took all his self-control to make his voice come out even, to convince Knight just how damn serious he was, when he continued, "I'm twenty-three weeks and it's a girl."

Beth, with a sore bottom and irritated she wasn't getting the attention she wanted, snuggled her head into Shane's neck and howled all the more until Shane bowed his own head, pressing his lips into her dark mop of hair.  
"It's gonna be okay," he muttered into it, rocking her back and forward a little until her cries turned into hiccoughs.

"More than okay," Knight said, leaning forward as the last bit of strain seemed to leave his body so that his knee touched Shane's and tickled Beth under the soft folds of her chin. "You're getting a sister, it'll be fucking brilliant."

For once, Schofield didn't berate the use of that language in front of the baby – he figured by the time either one of his girls were adults, they were going to have a pretty impressive vocabulary anyway. Some things were just not worth fighting for – but instead, with his face still hidden in Beth's hair, smiled all the wider as Knight's excitement bled into his, joined at one little spot on the knee.

Shane realised then that he should have always known that Knight would take this particular turn of events well.  
Family was important to him.

"This is good news," Aloysius said earnestly when Schofield looked up. "I should've known my life would never be normal with you around."

Shane had to admit he had a point. The absurd and ridiculous seemed to follow him, though assuredly, he didn't encourage it. These things just seemed to happen around him.

All the same, he retaliated with a playful, "Don't blame me. This is as much your fault as mine."

"It's no one's fault," Knight replied. "It's just a happy accident."

And there, Shane had to disagree. He had perhaps more than the average experience of accidents. Sure, the tower at Dragon Island and that Sea Gate and yes also the crashed AWACS bird and maybe the (first) French submarine – though arguably, that one was self-defence – had been deliberate destruction but by and large, a lot of what seemed to happen around him was accidental.  
And yet, at the end of the day, no matter how useful or necessary those accidents had been, someone always got blamed.  
And that someone tended to be him.

So accident or not, there was fault here to be sure but equally, Shane was sure it was spread pretty evenly between the both of them.

"I'm twenty-three weeks," he repeated, the realities starting to sink in. "That's halfway and we're not prepared at all."

"We're more prepared now than we were for Beth," Knight countered, "And we've got twice as long to get the rest of it organised."

Just then, Louis came bounding into the room, clearly aware that all the action was happening in there and wanting to be a part of it. He leapt up onto the sofa and wriggled his way between Shane and Aloysius, disturbing Beth in the process, who promptly pulled on his tail.

With the four of them piled on the sofa, Schofield was struck with the realisation of how little space, both literally and metaphorically, there was in his life. Between Beth, Louis and the Corp, he was already stretched thin. He decided not to worry too much about whether or not he would find the space to love another child as much as he had come to love Beth – that was a given. He also decided to ignore the exact practicalities of managing another child as well – it would have to be one hell of a challenge before the Scarecrow and the Black Knight were defeated. But the physical realities were staring him in the face and he couldn't push them so easily aside.

"We're going to have to move," he said.

"Do I need to remind you I made $55.8 million dollars from that hunt with you, alone," Knight replied. "So we'll sell this place for a pittance and move on and up."

"And what the hell am I supposed to tell the Corp?" Schofield shot back.

Even Knight couldn't argue that one.

That night, as Shane got Beth ready for bed, she babbled away as she often did. More than satisfied with his attention, she didn't need a reply or even his understanding of her strange baby chatter.

But tonight, as he washed the soap bubbles out of her hair, he posed a question to her.  
"Can you believe it?"

With Beth in front of him, cooing and splashing and generally making a mess, so tangible, it was hard to imagine the other child that lay beneath his skin. Who would she look more like? Would she and Beth get along? She had a whole life of growth and dreams and scaring the hell out of him ahead of her but he couldn't yet hold her, see her, smell her. It was hard to think of her as a real person.

In response, Beth blew a loud raspberry.

"Yeah, me neither," Shane said.

When Beth was safely ensconced in her cot, Schofield and Knight called it a night as well. At first, it had surprised Shane how much Knight tended to cling once asleep – and that he continued to do so no matter how many bruises he obtained. Shane had wrongly assumed that they would either keep to their side of the bed or that if there was any snuggling to be done, being the physically smaller of the pair, he would be the one wrapped up in Knight's larger frame. The reality was very different. As soon as Knight's glasses came off, it was Aloysius who slept with his body pressed against the length of Shane's own and his face tucked into the hard lines of Shane's chest where his eyes would be safe from the early morning light. Tonight was no exception. Only tonight, Aloysius' other hand – the one that wasn't trapped awkwardly between their bodies, which had taken Shane a while to get used to but now he couldn't fall asleep without Knight's fingers digging into his side – was splayed protectively over Shane's stomach.


End file.
